Consequences Be Damned
by Too-Deep-In-The-Feels
Summary: Usually when you die, you die. No setbacks. Yet, what is this female-turned-male doing in the Harry Potter universe? In the Marauders timeline, at that? He certainly doesn't know, but what he does know is that this time, he's going to live with no regrets. If that means messing up the plot (terribly), then oh, well. It doesn't matter to him, after all. (Cover not mine)
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

 **Alright, so master fanfic writers are following me. No pressure, amiright? So, new story. Am I abandoning my other one? Hell no, it's only getting good. Now, please review, and you get hugs** **! Why do I feel so happy I think I ate too much candy?**

 **Anyway, little gray lines are NOT the real line breaks, the bold black ones are (I'm using Microsoft Word,** _ **limited options**_ **).**

 **This little Disclaimer goes for ALL CHAPTERS, ok? I MOST DEFINITELY** **DO NOT OWN** **HARRY POTTER, ONLY MY OC (who is basically a recreation of myself, so hey, lucky you, congratulations, here's your medal-).**

 **ENJOY, MY PUPS!**

 **LINE BREAK**

Okay, so I did not expect to die. Who does, anyway, besides cryptic old dudes (lookin' at you, Dumbles)?

It was most definitely not as flashy as I would have liked. I expected glitter and Fall Out Boy songs, with a little boy being saved, and a statue later erected in my honor. But noooooo, instead it was a freaking rogue 'I'm-gonna-appear-out-of-freaking-nowhere' motorcycle, which just happened to appear in just the right place to crash into my brand spanking new Honda Crosstour.

Yeah, my day started out normal enough. Wake up at 7:50 a.m. so I could have time to get dressed, eat breakfast, and take care of other necessities, like my schnauzer, Ivy. I'd then race to the door, throw it shut before my dog could follow me, and hop into my car (which I was very proud of, thank you very much). Afterwards, I'd make my way to the Vet, which I would arrive at, at around 8:45, quite safe. Actually, that's the way it was _supposed_ to happen.

I was halfway there, and tapping my hands on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, and after I'd waited the required time at the stop sign, seeing nobody coming, I had turned left. Which, of course, led to my young demise (Like dude, I was _24_. So unfair).

As soon as I had turned the corner, I saw a rather rushed motorcycle, and had just a second to regret my life and not leaving a will to my dog, before I felt the motorcycle crash into the side of my poor car.

Excruciating pain. That was all I could think about, because I couldn't hear, nor see, and could only feel the pain of harsh metal digging into my side and head. I knew that I was going to die, because I knew that I had to be bleeding profusely, because _oh God_ the _pain_ , and suddenly I could hear again, and I could see that I was on the opposite side of the road I was originally on, and ( _was that my blood?_ _There's so much of it)_ I could hear the cyclist panicking, he was on the phone and he was yelling on whoever was on the end of the line. I knew they would be too late, but I was still aware enough to be impressed by how fast I heard the sirens approaching, but then again, not fast enough. The sirens were the last thing I heard before I descended into darkness.

 **LINE BREAK**

 _Well this is anticlimactic_.

Sure, I had welcomed the darkness at first, it was far better than the previous pain I had felt. That didn't mean I had wanted to stay so long in the darkness. From what I could tell and had heard before, I should either be walking in my version of Heaven (which I had hoped would involve writing fanfiction and then seeing it being acted on the big screen, or at least infinite chicken tenders or something), or some kind of Hell (in which I'd just awkwardly follow Satan around the whole time). But from what I could tell, I could not even move, and I had been in here for _months_. Lord, if this is what babies feel like-

What was that? No really, what was that? It sounds like a woman screaming bloody murder, if that's true, then my Hell must be just getting started-

 _Where am I going? I feel like I'm freaking apparating, like I'm going through a tight tube or something, and OW, THAT HURTS LIKE A MOTHERFU-_

"Congratulations, Mrs. Rosewood, it's a beautiful baby boy!"

Eh? Oh, hold the fuck up, first of all, I'm a lady, thank you very much-

That's what I would have liked to say, however, I was currently in pain and I had just recently discovered this new development (which was: Holy crap, I've just been reborn, I hope it's not in Naruto), and the only noise I could make was a scream, which, funnily enough, sounded exactly like a baby's.

Though, I couldn't be too ungrateful toward this situation. I had a new chance at life, after all, and I could start a new life without regrets! So, I wasn't too disgruntled, and I calmed down by the time I was wrapped in a blanket and placed in a woman's arms (I'm a pretty chill person, okay? Don't judge me). Based on the fact that she felt warm and familiar, I assumed she was my new mother. I was rather attached to my old one, but she seemed nice enough. Though, I wondered what she looked like...

I cracked open my eyes. Everything was pretty blurry, but I could make out the white walls of a hospital, and the blonde that must have been my mother's hair, and her tan skin, and her very warm hazel eyes. She looked exhausted, and she was covered with sweat, but she was still very pretty, and the smile that reached her eyes actually made me smile back a toothless grin, and I reached out a chubby hand toward her. She giggled and snuggled me closer, then looked up at the doctor, who I could see quite well, as my eyes were slowly adjusting. He was pretty unremarkable, with brown hair and brown eyes, and tan skin, but he looked like a nice person, based on the happily exhausted smile he wore.

He looked at my mother, "He's cute, that one. He'll be a real charmer when he grows up, Faith. But where's the father?"

My mother's smile dimmed somewhat. She looked disappointed as she spoke. "I don't know," she said softly, "I told him to come...but I should've known he wouldn't care..."

Oh no, I have a prick for a father, don't I?

The doctor sighed. "Well, he's missing out," he said, "What are you going to name him?"

My mother looked down at me. She seemed to some to a decision. "Ivy Beau Rosewood. His eyes are just like his Grandfather's."

The doctor smiled again, "It suits him," he sighed, "Such a charmer he will be..."

(Oh, he doesn't even know.)

 **LINE BREAK**

Yeah, no father to take care of me. That's what I had concluded, anyway. I had a pretty content life with just Mom, though.

It had taken me a good while to come to terms with what had happened. It led to many sleepless nights, and constant worrying on my mom's part. Poor thing, being so nervous as a first time mother, and having to deal with a depressed baby. In the end, I decided to just process some new information.

For one thing- I was in the past. Not too long, anyway. I was born on March 15th, 1960. A little shocking, but it wasn't too bad. At least there was air conditioning.

For another thing, I was born in Louisiana (in the USA). I could tell that much by the accents, the tan skin, and the fact that I was also born there in my last life.

Another thing is that I was, indeed a boy. A rather cute one, might I add. I had caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror after I learned to walk (I learned that quick enough, being a baby was _boring_ ), and I was _adorable_. I can appreciate this because this, to be technical, is not my real body, just the second option. I had big, alligator green eyes, that were framed by long, dark eyelashes, tan skin, a small nose, light freckles across the bridge of my nose, and dark blonde hair with copper-ish highlights that fell with a slight wave. My features were delicate, and I actually looked pretty feminine. Like, I could be mistaken for female. Not that I minded, really, being one in my last life. I often compared my new body with my old one. I knew that I was currently just over a year old, but a lot could be told at that age, and I could see that I would be missing some things, and gaining others.

Another thing about this body was that it had high stamina. In my last life, I was quite lazy, and I'd run out of breath quickly. To my credit, though, I maintained a slim figure, too, and was certainly not lacking in the curves department. Anyways, I was actually a pretty energetic child. It led to many stressful moments for my poor mother, and I nearly gave her a heart attack the time I'd managed to climb a fairly large oak tree at five years old. I made up for it in intelligence. According to many people, I was a little genius, even though I'd tried to tone it down a lot. It had gone pretty well until I started school.

Ah, yes. School. Thy horror awaits beyond closed gaits, sire. Don't scream too loudly, or you'll awaken the principal, Smaug!

Yes, I'm being completely serious. The principal's last name was Smaug. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to look a man in the eye, and apologize to Mr. Smaug for hitting another (fairly irritating) child in the face with the Bible?

Yeah, I was definitely a problem child. Though that could be easily overlooked, because of my _ **GEniUs**_. I got straight A's, straight 100's, even, in every class, because my pride would not allow me to get a problem incorrect, no matter how important it was to stay low. I was offered to skip grades, and I, to my credit, _very nearly_ declined. Yeah, no way was I passing an opportunity to show off. It wasn't like I was going to stay in school after age 10, anyway

Because I had magic, and I was in the Harry Potter universe. It wasn't difficult to figure out, and I was quite glad I did, because I wanted to look like a know-it-all in classes. Wait, that sound wrong. I wanted to look infuriatingly unaffected under supposedly fearful situations. I was also in the Marauder timeline, and I planned on messing it up completely. I'd figured that out because once, when I was bored, around 4 years old, I was testing it out. I certainly hadn't expected anything to happen when I'd tried out the Levitating charm. I'd quickly been proven wrong when my bed had started _floating_. Now, I wasn't very well versed in the HP fandom anymore, but I'm pretty sure that was perfect control, and exceptionally powerful, considering how heavy a bed is. So, I'd discovered I was also a magical genius, and I would be totally using that shit to my advantage. As in, I was totally becoming an Animagus by Third year. Everything was laid out in front of me, and everything was perfect. I should've known it wouldn't last.

My luck is absolutely horrible, after all.

. **LINE BREAK**

It started when my biological father came home. Now, I don't know when exactly it happened, or why, but one afternoon I walked home from school to see an extremely handsome man sitting at our living room table. I looked closely at him. Same green eyes, same dark blonde hair, same wave in the hair...

Wait, scratch that. Not the same green eyes. Mine most certainly did not hold endless hatred, at least I hoped they didn't. If they did, I felt pity for Mom yet again. Of course it was only natural that when my father turned his eyes on me, their hatred only stood out more. I turned toward Mom. She seemed nervous, but in no hurry to shush him. Huh, so her own life matters more than mine. How touching.

"What is this?" He sneered, looking down at me. So, when I'm nervous, I get pretty snarky. I was definitely nervous.

"I'm an angel. Come on John, please wake up," I deadpanned, staring at him blankly. I also discovered that I could not show emotions very well, which was both a blessing and a curse.

Mystery Man (let's call him MM) snarled at me, furious. He stood up abruptly, knocking the chair over with a loud _CLANG._ Then MM started toward me, his hand raised. I scurried back, skittishly He instantly stopped, but his glare did not waver.

He turned toward Mother, "There's going to be some new rules around here."

The next years were not the wonder years. Though MM refrained from hitting me that day, he did not refrain from doing so later. Mother never dared go against him, and our relationship fell apart. She ignored me and I did the same. Father beat her more than me, but that didn't mean he was doing it to be kind. He just never bruised or scarred my face or hands. I only wore long shirts and pants. He had no such qualms with my mother, for she stayed home and therefore he did not have to worry about anybody seeing. I practiced my magic in secret, and got physically exercised. By the time I was 10, I was short (slight malnourishment, I was actually naturally short), but lean, with slight muscles, mostly in my legs. I somehow had maintained a healthy tan, and still had my feminine looks, though I looked a lot less like a girl. I had pale scars, mostly on my arms and collarbone/chest. I had taken to staying on the streets until evening, as that definitely cut down on the scars and bruises. Less time with the old man, less scars. I had also taken to wearing dark gray jeans, dark purple converse, a black wife beater, and a choker around my neck (some things never change), with a purple jacket tied around my waist. As long as Father never saw my short sleeves, I was fine (that dude had me _whipped._ )

Oh, and two days after my 10th birthday, I first met Sirius Black.

 **LINE BREAK**

 **This took way too much time, but I hope it was worth it, pups. If you want to make a request for his Animagus form, tell me in a** _ **review**_ **(*wink wink* *nudge nudge*).**

 **EDIT: I totally rushed this shit, but I wanted to make it simple.**

 **Adios, I'm tired as Hell,** _ **love you guys**_ **!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

 **Please note that the prologue was rushed because I wanted to get immediately into the storyline. Sorry if it was bad, but I swear I'll take my time with this chapter in return.**

 **Also, remember to check out my other story if you haven't already, my last chapter was actually pretty good. Took me for-fucking-ever, though.**

 **Ivypedia: his favorite character in the Harry Potter series is/was Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Hedwig close behind.**

 **LINE BREAK**

I sighed wearily, rubbing my dulled green eyes from behind my glasses (yeah, turns out I have kinda bad eyesight. Enough for the glasses to make my eyes look slightly smaller, but still huge and adorable. If anything, I looked _cute_ with glasses and beautiful without them. I know, I'm irritated at myself, too). I glanced around at the Cajun music hall, smiling tiredly. I'd found this place when I was 'bout eight, and it had looked pretty bad, with rotten floorboards, moth-eaten wallpaper, and - _shudder-, carpet_ , of all things. The tables were small and round, and the instruments, like the accordion, were off-key and in severe need of a tune-up. Now, after all my hard work of just over two years, the place was unrecognizable.

I am still slightly confused as to why they let a child take charge, but I need to remember that Louisiana, especially this little town, is widely accepting of anybody's opinion, old or young, gay or straight, white, black, Asian, or Hispanic, male or female. I s'pose most assumed that Louisiana, as a southern state, was really restricted, which it was not. In fact, you couldn't walk into Tractor Supply without seeing at least two openly, flamboyantly gay men. It was rather relaxed.

Anyway.

Now, the hall gave off a rustic, old-timey glow. The floorboards were ash wood, and the hollowness beneath your feet made for a good rhythm when you stomped to the beat, which was often, as we didn't have any drums. Cajun music is the best that way. The tables were made of oak, and shone with polish, extending from the back wall to the stage up front, so there were only four tables. This meant everybody sat together, so it was easy to bond with complete strangers sitting across from you over Jack Daniel's whiskey, the fiddle and accordion's beat thrumming in your ears loudly, the rather tall ceiling shaped into a hollow dome above your heads carrying the music through the air. The round stage up front was decorated like the rest of the room, cypress trees with moss hanging from their branches placed in every corner and along the walls, and some simple chairs sat on the stage, making it under-decorated and bringing attention toward the musicians themselves, who were usually old, cheerful men with laughing eyes and crinkles around their eyes and mouths from smiling, most usually dressed in simple caps, jeans, and comfy flannel and hiking boots, making you believe they were the ordinary men that they truly were. For only simple men like that could bring people together to the point that by the end of the night, most called each other family. Hanging from the walls were prizes such as huge bass and catfish reaching up to ten feet tall. There was even a gator, a green-ish brown one with tough armor surrounding its body, glaring yellow eyes and gaping maw filled with seemingly dull but numerous teeth bringing it a fearsome appearance. The gator stood in a glass encasing, below its clawed feet was Spanish moss and rotten logs covered in mold. Right beside it was an alligator gar roughly the same size, a little smaller, its tail curving and dulled armor shining slightly in the golden, warm light that surrounded the room. Its eyes were just as fearsome at the gator's and its teeth were many and sharp and needle-like. Unlike the gator, the gar was simply stood on a wooden plaque along the walls of its glass encasing. The two creatures were famous in the hall, and many a tourist has stopped and taken an awe-inspired picture. Perhaps the best thing about the Cajun music hall was the food. While usually food was served simply and the drinks were water, this hall was the opposite. There was a bar in the corner, drinks ranging from whiskey to wine to strawberry daquiris. The bartender was a kind, pretty, younger woman, with blue eyes, tanned skin, and light brown hair. She was extremely skilled and while many would worry about somebody molesting her, she was well-known among the patrons, and if anybody dared to approach her with malicious intent, they would be met with unwavering fists, from the customers to the kind musicians, and a very public shaming. Nobody messed with Eliot.

The food here was good 'ole Cajun cookin', which basically meant gumbo, crawfish, shrimp, catfish, alligator bites, alligator gar patties, and anything fried. We had a good staff here, with seven chefs, ten waiters, three musicians, and three bartenders including Eliot. I, myself, was a waiter, which meant I had to choose a uniform that would look good on me. I decided on a simple white button down that stood out against most every waiter's tan skin(sleeve length was a choice), a black apron with pockets meant for carrying straws, jeans or black slacks (I chose the slacks), and optional shoe choice, so I got to wear Ked's. I also chose to keep on my signature black choker, as it was now a comfort to me. The bartenders wore a white long-sleeved button down, black slacks and suspenders, optional shoes, and a black bowtie. The musicians wore whatever, as well as the chefs. My favorite thing about the place was hearing the very flat, Cajun accents that I possessed as well, and the Cajun French that everybody understood, but never used for full sentences. Everybody was family here, and as soon as you stepped through the door you were a part of our cult.

I was snapped out of my musings by a distinctively loud, flat voice. I grinned fondly, knowing exactly who it was, and strolled over as if I didn't hold a tray full of seafood platters in one hand. I love being physically fit.

A large, calloused hand slammed down onto the smooth wood, and a deep voice spoke with surprising clarity, "And 'den," the man said excitedly, "da' line jus' _snapped_ , like dat! Da' gator, huge as da' one standing jus' ten feet away, slivered through 'dat water, smooth as a co'onmout, draggin' 'dat smalla' gator wit' 'em, like 'e was nothin'! And 'e's still ou' 'dere, I know it, ya coonass!" He finished his statement with a teasing yell in another man's direction. I knew this man, he was a Saturday night regular, and his name was Daniel, though he liked to be called Danny. His accent, while thick, made for a good story, and it wasn't hard to believe that this man hunted gators for a living. It wasn't an uncommon practice.

I slid smoothly in front of Danny, startling him, and gracefully placed down his Jumbo Seafood Platter, along with his friends' Duck Gumbo, Crawfish Etoufee, and one lady's Alligator Bites. For some reason, this body was extremely graceful, and I can't remember tripping since I was seven. Eh, small mercies.

Danny's hand was over his heart, his brown eyes narrowed and silver eyebrows furrowed in mock anger, "Jesus Christ, Ivy, can' you warn a man? Ya' gave me a hear' attack!"

I smiled at him innocently, and replied cheekily, "It won't take much to knock you out, old man!" I quickly left, hearing his dramatic cries of outrage through the music. I made my way to the kitchen, dodging a waitress in a smooth motion, carefully steadying her, and opened the door, moving out of the way with my back holding the doors open for another rushed waiter to pass by. Saturday nights were busy.

I put up my tray, seeing the time was 7 p.m, telling me my shift was over for the evening. I hung up my apron and rolled my sleeves to my elbows, moving to the back door. At least five hands ruffled my silky hair before I managed to squeeze my way toward the Head Chef's area, which was near the door. I don't know what's up with people and my hair. Meh.

A bandaged hand shot out to stop my exit, and the Head Chef, Julian, stepped out.

Julian was a black man, with curly black hair, a goatee, and dark brown eyes. He was pretty tall, and clumsy. The only thing he was graceful at was his cooking, and even then he had constantly bandaged fingers because of some slip-ups with a knife. I glanced at him nervously, though my face was kept mostly stoic. So I had a problem with expressing my feelings through my face, fight me, bitch.

Julian was basically my elder brother, as he was relatively young, 23 years old. He hates my family more than even I do, though all of the staff does anyway. They don't know about the beatings fully, but they definitely suspected. I suppressed a sigh, knowing what was coming.

"Stop," he ordered, as though I hadn't already. He had a look of seriousness on his face. His accent wasn't Cajun, but Floridan. It made him seem more demanding, for some odd reason. He continued, pointedly ignoring my 'are-you-serious' look, "I want you to stay with me tonight."

I sighed again, feeling 100% done right now. He did this _every day_. "I can't Julian, I told you this. Father would get angry, and I don't want nor need that."

I saw Julian look at my scars and newer bruises along my arms. I'd gotten those because I cursed him out in what I _thought_ had been an empty room. Apparently, it was not. I saw his eyes dull slightly in resigned sadness, and suppressed a grimace. Believe me, if I could stay with you, I would. But I don't want you being dragged with me to the magical world. "...alright, Ivy," he said, softly, "just...just be careful. I'll...see you tomorrow."

I smiled softly, and started off again, stopping at the door to call out, "Love you, Julian."

He grinned a little, looking slightly happier, "Love you, too, Ivy."

I headed out, unaware of what awaited me.

 **LINE BREAK**

I stared, feeling quite despondent at this point. Just... _why?_

 _I did not need this shit._

A young Sirius Black was sitting outside of an antique shop, looking nervously at the dark streets. His long, wavy black hair stopped before his shoulders, and his pale grey eyes flickered from one side of the street to the other. I wondered when he'd spot me. His pale skin made him stick out like a sore thumb, and he was wearing a green jumper over a white button-up and black slacks, as well as polished shoes. Literally nobody here looks fancy, so he looked extremely out of place. I rolled down my sleeves, knowing that he'd be scared of me if he saw my scars and rough appearance, so I was glad of my clean hair, skin, nails, and clothing. Besides my scuffed shoes, I looked like a normal dude. ( **A/N: He's ignoring his cute freckles, huge, alligator green eyes, and small and petite frame, despite his little muscles. He's denying the fact that he's adorable and five inches shorter than Sirius.** )

I approached him casually, glad of my straight, proud posture, and soulful eyes. I didn't look anything close to a creep, at least. His grey eyes widened when he saw me, his mouth gaping slightly. I sent him a quick grin, and he relaxed. I had that effect on people, as a Mary-Sue it was my duty.

I stopped and sat down next to him on the bench. I may not have liked this little coincidence, but I liked his character a lot, and so no way in Hell was I going to pass this opportunity. Sirius scooted closer unconsciously.

I glanced at him, deciding to start a conversation. My soft voice was easily heard in the quiet atmosphere, "What's your name? You're not from 'round here, are you?"

Sirius blinked at me, then: "Sirius Black. And how'd you know?"

I snorted, not unkindly, "Pale skin, almost never seen it before, accent – are you British? - and I know everybody around here. Small town, y'know?"

He blinked again. "Oh. What's your name, then? And yeah, I'm British." Sirius added, lounging back slightly. I could see the future Sirius in him.

"Ivy Rosewood. What brings you here? And where's your caretakers?" I questioned, curious. As far as I knew, Sirius had never been to America in canon.

"Oh – er – Father has a meeting with an associate. Mother stayed behind with Regulus – my little brother – and Father wanted me to see what it was like doing business, being the Heir and all," he suddenly clamped his mouth shut, looking worried at the possibility that he's given up too much information.

I pretended to be surprised, my eyes widening behind my white-rimmed glasses. "Wow, but you seem so nice! I honestly thought all rich people were asshats!"

Sirius wrinkled his nose, "Yeah, I'm probably the only nice one. Besides James, of course."

"Who's James?"

"My best mate, James Potter. He's in Britain right now. I wish I could've owled him-" Sirius shut his mouth with an audible click, eyes widening in horror. He probably thought I was a Muggle.

Well, ahaha, bitch.

I sighed, "Yeah, I wish I had an owl. But I'm not allowed any pets. No Floo, either"

Sirius gaped, before he grinned, looking amazed at his luck. Same, Sirius, same. "You're magical?! That's awesome, mate! Is there a wizarding school here?"

Before I could answer, I heard the click of a cash register, which meant we were nearly out of time. I was willing to bet Orion was in there, right now. He was cutting our conversation rather short, eh? So, I took out my small notebook that I usually used for orders, and asked urgently for Sirius's number. He seemed to understand the situation and gave it to me immediately. Smart kid.

I jumped up swiftly to my feet, Sirius's eyes widening at my smooth movements, and gave the Black Heir a firm hug ( **A/N: Louisianians are extremely huggable and huggy people, trust me. I am one, after all** ). I then sped off down the street before Orion got out of the store, missing Sirius's pleasantly surprised look. I was halfway down the road when I heard the door open, and slowed my run to a casual, but efficient pace. I looked back at the end of the street, and saw Sirius wave at me when his father wasn't looking. I waved back, before making my way back home.

It had been a long day.

 **LINE BREAK**

 **Alright, one Marauder down! I wanted him to meet Sirius before he was a suspicious kid, so as to establish a solid friendship. Everything about Louisiana and its natives are true, it's my home state. Cajuns do talk like dat, too, sha. I know a place like the one I described, and yes, Louisianians can keep a tan in winter, it's total bullshit and I love it. The most Ivy's gonna grow is 5'3 ( 162 cm). So sad, but I love writing and reading about short male OC's.**

 **If you have any questions, PM me!**

 **Catch you later, pups!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Y'all. Praise Jesus, hallelujah, my mom just bought the hugest motherfucking box of vanilla and chocolate chip Grandma's Cookies, and I swear to God, what a time to be alive!**

 **I tend to overreact. But I swear it cost $40 and it was given to her AT HALF-PRICE.**

 **IT'S SO HUGE IT'S WORTH $80 IN COOKIES.**

 ***wipes away tear* Anyway, I decided to update (I need a schedule but it's summer so I should be able to update more, at least on my vacation (Imma make my parents cry, on my laptop at the beach when I should be socializing)).**

 **My other story, "You're Nothing but a Troublemaker," gets a lot better in the most recent chapter. I'm proud, at least. I also don't know if I should make this story BL, as in Sirius x OC, Remus x OC, or maybe a situation where both Sirius and Remus love the OC and are jealous. It wouldn't come until later chapters, though. Tell me what y'all think!**

 **Y'all'd've is an actual word in my state it's glorious.**

 **Anyways, on with the chapter!**

 **LINE BREAK**

 **Ivypedia- he's sensitive about his height**

 **LINE BREAK**

It was a week later when I decided to become an illegal immigrant.

No, wait, stay with me here!

I was absolutely determined to go to Hogwarts. Hell if I'd let the chance to become a masterful wizard slip me. I had the memories of my previous life very clearly, so I bet if I used the knowledge I had from the books, Pottermore, and fanfictions, I'd be a genius.

It was better than sitting in a class full of high schoolers and 'learning' about math. I knew everything I needed to know, including art and Cajun French, so please get that stick out of your ass, teacher, I have plenty of reason to sleep!

I also hated my life in this state right now. Don't get me wrong, I love Louisiana and I'm proud of my roots and genetic stubbornness, but by _God_ , my father was a prick and if this routine continued, I would have zero unscarred flesh. My skin wasn't pale, smooth, and flawless before, because I was tan and had a few freckles, but at this rate I'd be worse than Remus Lupin, and this was unacceptable. It never really crossed my mind that my scars would gain me pity. Huh.

New Orleans was only a three-hour walk/jog away. That huge town (it was odd seeing it before Katrina) had one of the largest ports, and on occasion a ship that went straight to England would pass. It wouldn't be difficult to sneak on a ship, because much as I loathe to admit it, my state's people were not the most observant, and even if they saw me, I doubted they would care. They were pretty chill.

I packed my belongings in a large shoulder-bag. My clothing mainly consisted of flannel, hoodies, faded jeans, and converse, but I had a few khakis and T-shirts as well. I'd returned my uniform and black loafers to the restaurant yesterday. I'd also left a note, so hopefully the workers wouldn't tear down the world searching for me. Hopefully.

I dressed myself in green converse, khaki pants, and a white T-shirt with a green short-sleeve flannel over my shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. I ran my fingers through my hair, shouldered my grey bag, took a deep breath, and took off down the familiar streets.

*time skip b/c it's easier*

This was the largest motherfucking ship I've ever seen. Holy shit.

I blended in with the boxes (and wasn't that just insulting) and remained hidden throughout the loading and unloading process, having to roll under the boxes at some point to avoid detection. I'm like a ninja, mothafuckas.

This body was really tiny (as much as I hate admitting this fact) and I actually hid pretty easily. I heard the groaning of closing gates, and managed to enter a huge, red, metal container, and tucked myself into a tight corner, using my bag as a pillow. My body rocked with the motions of shallow waves and I closed my eyes, embracing the darkness.

 **LINE BREAK**

Green eyes opened slowly, blinking away the sleep that lingered in their corners. I heaved myself upright, my head swiveling around, feeling like I'd just been confounded. My memories of boarding the ship came back in a rush, and I straightened, alarm flickering through my body. I forced myself to relax, crossing my legs and taking a deep breath, collecting my wayward thoughts.

There was a slight issue with this plan. It would take months to arrive in Britain, and I would miss my chance. So, I had to find a way to arrive there much, much sooner. I wished that I could teleport...oh.

 _Yeah,_ _ **oh.**_

 _Bitch, you can._

But I don't know my destination. I can't just Apparate using instinct!

 _Oh my fucking god, bitch. Just take the ship and speed it up or some magical shit._

Wouldn't that exhaust my magical energy? I might die!

 _All or nothing. All hands on deck, 'cause you, sir, are going to Hogwarts. Give me McGonagall or give me death._

Alright, fuck it. For Minnie!

I took a brief moment to Apparate outside of the container I had placed myself in, and landed with an 'oof' outside of the box, sprawled ungracefully on my back.

I pulled myself to my feet silently. I moved smoothly around the corners of the large metal boxes, and made my way toward the head of the ship. A few minutes later I stood behind the dozing captain, feeling like a creepy motherfucker.

I wondered briefly where the other workers were, because the rather thin man in front of me was quite alone. Then I just shrugged it off, and knocked the man out with a sharp blow to the head. He slumped forward, and I caught him before he messed up the controls, placing him gently on his chair. I placed my hands on top of the controls, not understanding them one bit. So I just put my hand on the main lever, and pumped my magic through the controls, willing the ship to move faster. It responded instantly, and soon the slow-moving ship was moving at a pace similar to the Knight Bus. I might've kept the pace all night, but I felt my magic draining quickly. The ship was huge, after all, and it was astounding that I even managed to pick up the pace a little bit.

So I took my hands off of the controls, and the ship jerked forward dangerously, tossing the captain onto the controls. He awoke with a startled grunt, and righted the ship with the efficiency of a seasoned sailor. When the ship was running smoothly again, he hazed around the room suspiciously, looking for someone who was no longer there.

I, meanwhile, was panting, collapsed on top of my bag and feeling the magical exhaustion kicking in. The good news, though, was that we were much closer to our destination. We would be in Britain within a week, if I did this everyday. So, I fell asleep feeling secure in my plans.

 **LINE BREAK**

A few days later, my eyes snapped open very suddenly. I felt my magical core hum as it sensed the arrival of a place rich with magic. A few seconds later, the ship gave one last, violent tilt before it snapped back upright, as if it were docking. I slipped into the shadow beside the large door and waited for the arrival of the workers.

A few minutes later, I heard some disgruntled mumbling. Complaints of 'not being paid enough' and 'I have to pick my kid up later' filled the air. A truly magical sound.

The groaning of abused hinges echoed throughout the nearly empty ship, bringing in the dull light of an English afternoon. I urged my magic to keep the shadows where I was. It complied. The workers didn't seem to notice the odd placement of shadows, and as they all trudged deeper into the ship, I darted out the door like a deer, keeping my footsteps light as I dashed through the port, and into the busy streets.

When I entered the streets, I brought my head up and strolled casually, gazing around as if I were a tourist. I was ignored for the most part, beside a few glances from adults who cooed at me for some reason. British people are strange.

After getting directions from a willing adult, I made my way to the place I would be staying. The Leaky Cauldron.

I figured it would be most logical to stay there. I'd stay at a motel or somewhere else, but I doubted they'd take in a kid with no money. A kid with bruises and scars, no less. If the glasses didn't throw most people off, I'd look like a delinquent. But ol' Tom would take me in, because I could work it off. I clean/cook/bartend, then he gives me a place to stay. I could cook my own meals, and maybe get some ice cream from Florean's place. I'm curious about what flavors they have.

Soon enough I spotted the Leaky Cauldron, and instantly got excited. My adventure was beginning! I was in the Harry Potter universe! I could be friends with the Marauders! _I can fuck up the plot so badly!_ I entered the Leaky Cauldron easily, sliding into the room like I was Michael Jackson. I attracted stares, but ignored them in favor of sidling up to the bar in front of Tom. He looked at me oddly, eyes lingering on my scarred arms, before he made eye contact with me expectantly. I grinned, ignoring the people still staring at me (I was ignoring a lot, I mean I didn't even pause at the man stirring his tea with wandless magic, the masterful son of a bitch) and said, "I'll work for you if you give me a place to stay."

Tom blinked, looking surprised for a brief second. Then he opened his mouth, revealing his missing teeth, and said, "A'right. What can ya do? Can ya cook? Clean? Serve?"

"All of the above and more. I can serve drinks if you show me how first. I learn quickly." I replied, ignoring the now impressed stares on my back. A ten-year-old boy that can cook, clean, serve, and bartend? Unheard of! (At least that's what I think they were thinking.)

Tom grinned, satisfied, "Then I s'pose ya'll ( **note the difference between y'all and ya'll** )do. Wha's yar name, son? I go by Tom."

"Ivy Rosewood, at your service," I bowed dramatically, then sprang back up quickly. "So, Tom, where do I stay?"

He rounded the corner of the bar, gesturing for me to follow. I walked up obediently. "I'll show ya."

 **LINE BREAK**

May I say that the rooms were severely underrated. I gazed around _my_ room yet again. The walls were pale brown, and the fireplace was made of brick. In front of the fireplace was a shaggy brown rug, placed on top of polished wood floors, right in front of a leather, light brown couch. A knit red blanket with white yarn fringe was thrown over the side of the couch. Behind the couch was a bed with a wooden headboard and a red quilt with brown sheets and pillows. Beside the bed was a wooden night stand with a lamp that had a cream nightshade. There was even a body-length mirror leaning against the wall left of the bed.

I flopped onto the bed dramatically, throwing my arms out, "This is the height of luxury!" Then I jumped up from my comfy bed, "I should actually be getting dressed for my 'new job'."

I grabbed my homemade uniform, tossing it on and standing in front of the mirror. Black converse, black jeans, a white, long-sleeved button-up (I left it untucked), a black, sleeveless sweater-vest, a black tie, and my normal, now-just-there-'cause-it-looks-good black choker. I smoothed down my hair pointlessly and adjusted my glasses, then smiled at my reflection. I really don't know if I look adorable, professional, or professionally adorable, but I looked good. The mirror said drowsily, "How cute~" I decided to ignore the mirror and made my way out to the front.

I met up with Tom after sliding down the banister, nearly giving him a heart attack. After staring me down suspiciously, Tom pointed me toward the kitchen, and told me to prepare breakfast for up to twenty people. I saluted him and slid into the kitchen, observing my new area. The stocks were good, but I couldn't see any cayenne pepper...

Ah, well, I thought, I'll just have to improvise.

Forty minutes later, beheld a glorious sight of breakfast. These people were deprived, apparently, because they looked at me like I was a godsend. I looked at my own work, too, and smiled slightly. A classic Louisiana breakfast. Sausage biscuits, biscuits 'n gravy, grits, bacon, pancakes, waffles, muffins, and fresh orange juice or lemonade. I'd gone overboard and made enough for thirty people instead. But, I wouldn't be from the South if I didn't make too much food. It's like a wonderful flaw.

Even Tom seemed awestruck, and he gaped openly at the food. He stared as all of his customers lunged for the food, only to be herded like cattle as I gestured them into a line. They obeyed me and waited impatiently for the food. I walked over to Tom with two plates, setting his down and placing mine in front of his. I walked away and returned with two glasses of lemonade. He took his numbly, before shaking out of his stupor. "How did ya do tha'?!" Tom exclaimed.

I looked at him oddly, "Do what?"

"Cook all tha' food! An' so well, too!" He said, taking a bite of a sausage biscuit.

I shrugged, "I learned, I had to cook for myself in America. Plus, I come from the South, so it's basically in my blood to cook well. It's fun, anyway."

Tom sighed, before nodding and eating his food quietly, accepting my half-assed answer. We both ate and watched the destructive nature of the hungry customers. I already loved this place.

 **LINE BREAK**

One month since I arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, and I was already the most popular person there. I cooked 'like an angel from Heaven', I served 'gracefully and swiftly', I cleaned 'very determinedly', and my drinks were 'like ambrosia'. I didn't say that, the customers did. I adjusted to the new lifestyle quickly, and I thought nothing could surprise me anymore. I mean, the day that someone brought a shit ton of owls to the bar and they all flocked to me like I was Jesus was surprising, but that was minor. But one month later, I had the surprise of my life, second only to learning I'd been reincarnated into the HP universe in the Marauders' timeline.

I was walking down the hallway, in my uniform, when I caught a glimpse of long black hair. The boy was pale with...grey eyes?

I gaped for a second, before throwing myself down the hallway to the boy. I had a brief second to note the boy beside him (who had messy black hair, hazel eyes, and glasses...!) before I halted myself right before him, my green eyes wide and sparkling with awe. The pale boy gasped, his grey eyes startled and wide, before he exclaimed,

" _Ivy!"_

" _Sirius!"_

 **LINE BREAK**

 **Cliffie! Sorry not sorry, pups! I kinda rushed this, so I hope it's ok! I should be able to take my time next chapter.** _ **Should.**_

 **Y'all know who the other boy is, right? I sure hope so, it's the one and only** _ **JAMES POTTER! Aka Prongs!**_ **I love that motherfucker. My favorite motherfucker is still Remus Lupin, though (I need to stop cursing).**

 **So, hope you enjoyed, big ass box of cookies, hopefully vacation, see you later, bitches~!**


	4. Chapter 4

**HAHAHAHA SOCIAL LIFE WHAT'S A SOCIAL LIFE?**

 **Oh btw,** _ **somebody**_ **pointed out that the ship would have taken months to arrive at Britain, so I went and edited that shit to prove them wro- correct myself *ahem*.**

 **So, you can go back and read that, or just read this brief explanation. So, basically, you guys know how Ivy's magic is very responsive to his thoughts and wants, right? Like, to the point where he can apparate with only a thought, even if he never has done it before. He's kind of a Mary-Sue, huh?**

 **So, basically, he knocked out the captain and took control of the ship, and urged the ship to move at the same speed of the Knight Bus using his magic. He got in a very good amount of miles before magical exhaustion kicked in, giving in to the fact that a cargo ship is huge. He repeated this process every night and arrived in Britain within a week. Simple enough, right? I like that explanation. Should've thought of that earlier, but I was running on three hours of sleep. Pity meh.**

 **Oh, before I forget, let me say that Ivy already made lots of money, so he can afford all of the school supplies. And he probably stole half his father's money, so let's say he's good.**

 _ **LINE BREAK BEE-OT-CHES**_

Possibly my best accomplishment to date is hugging Sirius Black. I can feel the envy of the Sirius fangirls. Dude, I, myself, was one in my last life, and at this point I envy myself. I mean, I obviously did something right in my last life. Was it my very limited social interaction with other human beings? Maybe, but I guess I'll never know. Being in the Harry Potter universe and all.

Anyways, I brought Sirius into an enormous (for me) bear hug. After a shocked pause, I felt Sirius's arms encircle me, and return the affection. I remained there for a little longer, before pulling myself away reluctantly, dropping onto the ground lightly. I looked up at Sirius's face, his jaw slack with surprise and eyes alight with...joy? Huh, that's odd. I grinned at his disbelief, and said, "Nice to see you, dude. What're you doing here anyways?"

Sirius blinked, but before he could open his mouth (probably to return the question, but in a much more dramatic matter), James, who must be feeling quite confused, cut in, "Er, excuse me, but who the bloody hell are you?" He looked sufficiently shocked, and his hazel eyes were huge behind his round glasses.

I waved off his question, "I'll answer you when we get downstairs, I actually have a job to do." Then I turned on my heel and walked off. After a brief pause, I heard the two boys start to follow, their longer legs easily catching up with mine. Thoroughly irritated at this, I opted not to take the stairs, instead sliding smoothly down the wooden banister. I heard Sirius choke and rush after me, James just chuckling and following Sirius at a more leisurely pace.

Forty seconds and an attempted lecture from Sirius later, and I was moving around the kitchen, with the two future Gryffindors seated stiffly onto two stools that I snatched from the bar. Ignoring their inquiring stares, I thought about what to cook. Well, Tuesdays are never busy, so I could get away with a simple batch of pancakes and waffles, right? I'd set aside various options for toppings, of course, but today there was only about six people that I needed to feed, the rest of the overnighters didn't wake up until noon. I nodded to myself. Pancakes and waffles it is.

I collected the flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar, dumping the correct amount into a bowl and sifting them together so that they mixed evenly. Then I made a well in the center and poured in milk, an egg, and some butter that I melted with a quick thought, my magic responding instantly. I mixed the batter well. When I was mixing the batter, I finally turned toward the two Marauders who were steadily getting more impatient. I most likely looked like a housewife, with my hip jutted out and the bowl resting on it as I mixed it so that there were no more clumps, and my eyebrow raised in an unmistakable 'what do you want' expression. Sirius seemed to have come to the same revelation, and coughed awkwardly before asking, "So...what are you doing here, Ivy? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but last time I saw you, you were in America."

I finished mixing the batter and placed the bowl on the countertop, then grabbed a griddle from a lower cabinet. I placed the griddle on top of the stove and oiled it before turning the fire on. I turned back to the batter just in time to slap James' hand away from the mixture. I sent a mock glare to him, then answered, "I took a cargo ship, which I'm pretty sure was illegal, but eh. Whatever works. And I came here because I saw no point staying in America. I mean," I continued, moving the batter to the stove, "there are literally no magical schools there. Plus, you're basically the first person to interact with me by choice. Oh, and to answer James' question, I'm Ivy Beau Rosewood, nice to meet you."

I poured the batter onto the griddle as soon as it was hot enough ( **A/N: You can tell it's hot enough when you flick water onto it and the water sizzles),** taking out a spatula from a nearby drawer. I heard Sirius's intake of breath, and then James spoke, "Wait, how'd you know my name? And- _you came here illegally?_ Sirius, what kind of friend do you have here? Where'd you find him, I want one!"

I froze, ignoring the rest of James' rambling and focusing on his first question. I absentmindedly flipped the first two pancakes when the little bubbles started popping, and panicked as I thought of how to answer that question, my face outwardly blank. Then I jolted, an idea coming to mind. I turned back to James. "Sirius mentioned you once. So I was right, wasn't I? Riveting," I deadpanned.

James snorted, seeming to accept my answer, and Sirius blinked, obviously surprised I remembered. I flipped the pancakes over, and hummed, satisfied with the golden-brown coloring it took. I took out a large plate and settled the equally large pancakes onto its white surface. There was a lapse in conversation as I continued to make breakfast. Then I glanced back, saw the twitching of James, and sighed. I flipped the pancakes before speaking in a distracted voice, "If you two want to help me, it'd be appreciated. Sirius, there's a waffle maker in the top cabinet. Plug it in- that's the plug, right there- and let it heat up. James, there's a coffee maker in the bottom cabinet- you'll know it when you see it- just put the water in the side container and some ground coffee- three scoops- in the little hatch up front- you'll have to grab a filter, too, those are the little white things- when that's done, just plug it in and press the green button."

As the two scrambled to do the tasks, I continued making the pancakes and thought about what my plans were right now. Obviously I planned to get my school things with Sirius and James, and go to Hogwarts, but what else? I was a Slytherin in my last life, so if I got into Slytherin now, would they hate me? Plus, how was I supposed to keep Peter away from the Marauders? And Remus, I need to do something about his 'furry little problem', I wish I could get him some Wolfsbane and some self-esteem, but I'm broke and apparently not the most social person. I heaved a sigh. So much to do...plus, I needed to make an appointment with a Healer, I really don't like glasses, hopefully they'll be gone by the time I'm in Fifth year at least. Also, I needed to get rid of the horcruxes, because hell if I was letting Harry have that shitstorm thrown on his shoulders, Dumbledore could go fuck himself. I had the ability to end the war, and I was going to do so. Oh, right, the war...

A tired smile made its way across my face at my thoughts, unbeknownst to me. James saw it, and frowned, thinking that, on top of Sirius and his family problem, he needed to befriend this- though he'd never say it out loud- tiny boy as well. Though maybe this one'd be easier, given that he didn't seem to have self-esteem issues. Ivy had ordered them around like a housewife, after all! Then he jolted, remembering his tasks, and hurriedly got back to work.

I put the last pancake onto the plate, then put it in the oven, setting it to 'warm'. Then I walked to where Sirius was, turned on the faucet, put my fingers under the water, then lifted the top of the waffle maker, flicking the water onto the surface and nodding when the water sizzled out of existence. I turned off the faucet, and grabbed the bowl of batter, still halfway full. I placed the bowl on the counter, grabbed a large spoon, then scooped out some of the batter, pouring the mixture onto the hot surface. Then I placed the top down, grabbing a rag and wiping the corners when some of the contents spilled out. I turned back to Sirius, who was looking at me curiously, and instructed, "Just keep on doing what I just did, and place the waffles onto this plate," I grabbed a large red platter, "when they're finished. You'll know they're done when the little red light- right here- turns into green. Keep it up, buddy." I clapped his back and shoved the platter into his hands, not bothering to ask him if he could do it. You see, where I come from, if you don't know how to swim by the time you're six, they just chuck you into the pond and wait for you to learn. If I can learn how to swim by a matter of life or death, Sirius can make waffles without burning down the kitchen. Probably.

I nodded to James, who was doing a pretty damn good job of making the coffee, and went to gather more ingredients. I took a can of cranberry sauce, a can of cherry pie filling, some blueberries, pancake syrup, and a dash of cinnamon (which is like, as much cinnamon as you can fit in the center of your palm when you cup it), then placed them onto a saucepan. Then I grabbed the saucepan and willed it to heat up, and it did so, just to the point that the ingredients mixed together, and my hands painfully heated up along with the saucepan. I silently cursed, then placed the saucepan onto the counter gently, taking a deep breath and trying not to let out any noises that would alert the other two people in the kitchen. I grabbed the paper towels and transfigured them into bandages, wrapping them around my hands with a smoothness that came from experience. I had, after all, been a student athletic trainer in my last life. I shoved the extra bandages into a nearby trash can, then grasped my wooden spoon, stirring the concoction quickly, poker face firmly in place. Then I put the saucepan on the counter, confident that the sauce would still be warm when the rest of the food was served. Then I glanced at the progress at the other two in the kitchen. Sirius was still working on the waffles, and had a pretty good system going. James had finished the coffee, the dark brown brew sitting calmly in the transparent pot. I nodded at James, satisfied, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Odd.

I took out the honey from the cabinet, wishing that I could just summon it. But alas, I wasn't alone, and I was willing to bet that my wandless magic would get me into Dumbledore's manipulations if anyone saw. Maybe I'd show them one day, but right now they were still too trusting of adults. So, I just took the honey out manually. That made three different toppings: the syrup, the honey, and my recently made fruit topping. I placed all three toppings on the counter next to the stove, and turned to James, who snapped to attention, his back straight and stiff. I nodded seriously at him, and said, "We're going to make orange juice. _The hard way._ "

James mock gasped, looking horrified, and I nodded again, gravely. Then I opened the fridge, bent down to open the drawer, and took out a plastic bag full of oranges. The bag took up the whole drawer, and there must've been around fifty of them. This time James' horror was not fake. I raised a brow, then said, "No backing out. I'm remaining stubborn on this one, you're helping me." James still looked scared, but he gave a jerk of his head, a determined look on his face. I carried the bag of oranges to the table and dumped them onto the counter, making a light _thump._ A few seconds later, Sirius made a victorious noise, and James and I turned our heads just in time to see Sirius put the last waffle onto the red platter. I patted James' arm, telling him to stay there, and walked over to Sirius. I looked at the waffles. A few were a little crispy, probably due to Sirius's short attention span, but the last few ones were perfectly done. I grinned at Sirius, and congratulated him happily, making him puff out his chest in pride. Then I instructed him once again, telling him to put the platter in the oven. "Oh," I added, turning away from the waffle maker, "don't touch the edges, it'll burn you. It's 'muggle technology'." He nodded and went to do as told. I wet a dish rag and wiped off the waffle maker, pleasantly surprised to find out Sirius had enough sense to unplug it when he was finished. I dropped the rag into the sink, then hefted up the miracle maker, putting it back into the cabinet. Then I strolled back to where Sirius had joined James, and picked up one of the (fairly large) oranges.

"Alright, what we're gonna do here is just," I lifted my arm and smacked the orange against the counter, making the two boys jump, looking fairly alarmed. I snickered, then continued, "We'll smack the oranges onto the counter, just enough to soften them up-" I started doing the things as I told them, "-and when they're soft enough to easily squeeze, you'll take a knife-" I ignored their noises of alarm, taking a slim, sharp knife, and cutting the orange in half with two swift movements, "-and cut the oranges in half. After that's done, just take a citrus reamer, hold the orange over a bowl, and force the juice out-" I twisted the citrus reamer, and the juice, along with some pulp and seeds, poured into the bowl that I literally pulled out of nowhere, "-into the bowl. Do the same thing with the other side, and make sure to chuck the skin into the trash after you're done, so there's no mess. If you get some juice on the counter, just wipe it off, no biggie. After we finish, we'll get a strainer and take the pulp and seeds out. Got it?" I turned back to them expectantly. They nodded quickly, looking oddly impressed. I smiled, and clapped my hands, "Get to work, people!

"Yes, ma'am!" They chorused.

I clicked my tongue, "Touchè."

Twenty minutes and a near food fight later, there were two pitchers of smooth orange juice atop the counter. I, not trusting either of the two after they started hurling the skin of the oranges at each other, took both of them, one in each hand, easily carrying them over to the counter, right next to the bend that separated the toppings from the other counter. I placed them down with a faint _click_ , and reached over to turn the oven off, opening the now dark oven door when I heard the little _beep._ I took out the satisfyingly warm and crispy pancakes and waffles, putting them down next to the orange juice. I grabbed some dish rags, throwing two of them at the two Marauders, them fumbling to catch them. After wiping off our hands, we threw them in the sink, and I walked over to the two. I said, "Alright, most of the over-nighters are up by now, and they're not allowed in the kitchen. Sirius, pour the fruit sauce into this bowl-" I handed the black-haired male a clear, plastic bowl, "-while James and I get started on the set up. James, get the waffles, I'll get the pancakes, let's _go._ "

James and I paraded the breakfast foods out into the open bar. We started from the left, and I told him to leave a little space for the dishes, silverware, and napkins. A few minutes later and the now wide-awake customers were drooling at the sight of the breakfast buffet. I, being the clever bastard I am, had already fixed James and Sirius a full plate, with syrup on James' waffles and honey on his pancakes, and fruit topping on Sirius's pancakes and honey on his waffles, like they said they liked. I gave them each a glass of orange juice as well, placing all of the food on the main table in the kitchen. They pulled up their chairs in front of their respective plates, looking greedily at the food. I'll bet they'll like it even better because they made it themselves. Food always tastes better when you make it, after all. While they had absolutely loaded plates, I, by contrast, had a simple cup of coffee. Well, I say simple, in reality it had more cream and sugar than actual coffee. Really, it was a horrible decision to give me free reign of my life.

So, while the boys (it is so difficult to remember I'm not female) ate, I started washing the pile of dishes that was the result of our little cooking spree. It was a large pile, but it was usually a lot more on normal days. Saturdays were terrible, but the day that creeps usually stayed overnight was Sunday, which I found was unacceptable because Sunday was the day of the Lord, and all of those people eyeing me had better be prepared, because I had a five-gallon bucket full of Holy Water, and I wasn't afraid to use it.

I scrubbed in a steady pace, on occasion pausing to take a gulp of my nerve-inducing coffee. After a few minutes I felt the probing stares on my back and jerked instinctively. I whipped my head around, eyes wide behind my glasses, "What?"

Both frowned (actually, they looked more like pouts, they were eleven-years old after all), and James spoke up, looking suspicious, "Why aren't you eating...?"

"Oh," I said, coming to a realization, "I usually don't eat breakfast, my body's not used to it." Then I closed my jaw with a snap, hoping beyond hope that they wouldn't probe into it.

James didn't seem to read into it, but I saw Sirius's grey eyes widen in what looked like horrified realization. Before he could speak up, I turned back to the dishes, speaking and scrubbing at a furious pace, "Anyways, have you all gotten your school supplies yet?"

It had shocked me when a Hogwarts letter had arrived for me, with the words _Mr. I. Rosewood, Room 405, The Leaky Cauldron, London._ It had made me unexplainably grateful that I'd traveled here as an illegal immigrant, because I probably wouldn't have gotten the letter otherwise. So, now I knew that at least dear Minnie knows that I exist, so it's likely that Dumbledore knows, too. I probably didn't seem too significant, or so I hoped. But I now had plenty of reason to be in the Leaky Cauldron, and I didn't have to sneak into Hogwarts! It made things a hell of a lot easier for me. I had a much greater chance of being able to get close to the Marauders, even though I knew very well that I wouldn't be a Gryffindor. It wouldn't be much of a hassle to sneak into the dorms, but Peter would be in the same dorms as them. Unless, I found a way for the other Marauders to get so irritated with them that he got kicked out...

James' voice cut through my thoughts. "Nah, not yet, mate," he said breezily, "if you want to come with us, we were planning to get supplies today, y'know..."

I finished scrubbing the last dish, and promptly jumped at the opportunity, "Hell yeah, dude! Just let me get changed, and I'll be right down. Wash your dishes," I added, rushing past them and up the stairs. It didn't take me long to run up the stairs and to my room. I shut the door quietly behind me and rushed to my closet, starting to dig through it hurriedly. I yanked out some sporty-casual clothes. Purple converse, form-fitting grey jeans, a short-sleeved purple hoodie (the sleeves came halfway down my upper arm) with white strings, and some black sweatbands that didn't know I had. It was actually quite easy to just transfigure my sucky clothes into the style I preferred. I shall never where highwaters. I fluffed my dark blonde hair- a habit from my previous life- and pushed up my white-rimmed glasses. I nodded at my reflection, thanking the fact that I had been a tomboy in my last life. If I was girly, I don't think I would've taken the change in style very well.

I looked at the clock on the wall. It was just a little past 10 o'clock, which was a pretty good time. I made my way downstairs, sliding dangerously down the banister once again, and landed lightly on my feet, practically springing into the kitchen. James and Sirius, who were at the sink, jumped, and Sirius yelped, both looking startled. I smirked, and said, "Ready to go?"

"Hold on," Sirius said, then placed his dish on the towel beside the sink. Then he turned to me, "Shouldn't we dry the dishes?"

I felt a small part of me purr when he said 'we', but shook my head, "Tom'll handle it. Won't you Tom?" I asked, directing my question to the doorway. To the other two's shock, Tom (the barkeeper, not the bloody Dark Lord) stepped into the room. He looked quite happy for somebody who had just been caught.

"Yea'," he said, voice slurred as usual, "I's abou' time ya' go an' relax, son. Ya've been workin' non-stop tha 'ole time ya've been 'ere. Go, 'ave fun." He ruffled my hair, and I frowned (read: pouted) up at him. He chuckled (what was funny?) and ushered us out. I felt a little put out as he basically threw us to the back and opened Diagon Alley for us. He then disappeared back into the shop, not waiting for us. I raised an eyebrow, then shrugged it off, turning to Diagon Alley. I grinned in admiration.

The Harry Potter-verse seemed to follow the books, mostly, and the movies a little but as well. Diagon Alley looked nearly exactly like the movies, beside a lack of some of the newer shops, and more old shops, and even some shops that must've been destroyed in the war. This was every Potterhead's dream. I looked over to James and Sirius, and they seemed just as awe-struck. Then I heard the tapping of bricks and yanked them out of the way, where we stood near an apothecary. They smiled at me sheepishly.

I sighed, feeling resigned. "Welp," I said, "where do you wanna go first?"

James opened his mouth, but I interrupted him, "No, we're not getting Quidditch supplies, I'm surprised they even let first years have broomsticks."

James sighed, disappointed, but nodded anyways. Sirius suggested, "Let's get the boring things done first, mate. Save the wands for last."

"Well done, Sirius, you had a good idea, " I praised, ignoring Sirius's offended look. I started wandering off, taking the supplies list from my pocket. They scrambled to follow me, "How about Madam Malkin's first, then books? I'll get you guys any books you're interested in that are not on the list. They have lots of-ahem- _mischievous_ books, if you catch my drift." I raised an eyebrow suggestively, smirking. I didn't give them time to answer, rushing to where I knew Madam Malkin's place was. They were so busy trying to keep up with me that they weren't prepared when I shoved them through the door.

James stumbled, and Sirius fell flat on his face as I stepped over him to greet the startled assistant, who had long, pale blonde hair and ice-blue eyes, with a tall, willowy figure. He looked to be around fifteen, and wore a simple black turtleneck, grey slacks, and black, shiny shoes. He shook my outstretched hand, already schooling his features into an indifferent, though not snobby, expression. He walked over to Sirius and heaved him onto his feet easily, then turned to me, "First years, I suppose?" I nodded, and he closed his eyes. "Say no more, firsties."

He started with James first, taking his measurements and pinning him into place, holding many sharp pins in his mouth and wielding the measuring tape expertly. An even taller and equally willowy lady walked out into the main room, holding a bunch of robes in her thin arms. She had strawberry blonde hair put up into an intricate bun, and slanted, turquoise eyes, with a beauty mark under her left eye. She donned mint green robes. The younger Madam Malkin handed the silky green robes to the short brunette, who had a look of superiority on her face, that had followed her out. The girl was ushered out of the shop after she handed over ten galleons, and Madam Malkin glided over to us. She smiled at Sirius, making her eyes crease and face light up, and asked him, "Do you know your measurements, Mr...?"

Sirius snapped out of his daze, and spluttered, "B-Black. Sirius Black." She showed no outward reaction towards his last name, so he continued, "And no, miss, I don't. Will you have to...?" He gestured numbly towards James, who looked terrified and was unmoving. I sighed, and shoved Sirius onto the other pedestal, sending a wink to Madam Malkin. She smiled, amused this time, and reached into a pocket of her robe and pulled out some sharp pins. Sirius gulped.

Thirty minutes and two traumatized children later, and I was the one with sharp needles poking me. In my last life, my mom had been an artistic person, and sewing was one of her many talents. She was why I knew how to cook, clean, be a good host, make alcoholic drinks (she liked Mint Juleps and whiskey 'n stuff), and deal with children. So, the feeling of pins resting dangerously against my body was a familiar, though not comfortable feeling. The boy, whose name was Alicio (French for 'graceful' or 'noble') spoke in accented English, "You are quite tiny, monsieur," he said, looking me over and taking out the pins, "an extra small, I believe. Do you eat?"

I gave him a side glance, "I take offense to that. En tant que chef, je mange bien."

He looked impressed, but never ceased in his movements, "Tu parle français?"

I nodded, "D'où je viens, c'est obligatoire. Are you finished?"

"Yes," he answered, and disappeared into the back room. I stretched my limbs, stepping off of the pedestal to stand by Sirius, who was watching James chat with Madam Malkin cautiously. I hooked my elbow around his own, letting myself fall limp so that I hung off him dramatically. He stumbled slightly before he managed to right himself, and he looked down at me questioningly. I shrugged, "I was bored."

He shook his head, and I righted myself just as Alicio came back with his arms holding three sets of rather small robes. I sighed disappointedly when he plopped them into my arms, feeling how tiny they were. Everything hurts.

A few minutes later, all three of us walked out with our robes, hat (that we swore to never wear), a winter cloak, and the uniform to go under the robes, which included a grey sleeveless sweater vest, a white button-down, a black tie (that would change colors when we were sorted), grey slacks, and shoes of choice. The universe followed the movies on that part (of that I was thankful).

Next we got our books (where I got James a book on magical creatures (apparently he likes learning about that) and Sirius a book about harmless, but funny, hexes and jinxes to use on friends (or Slytherins).), then a cauldron, crystal phials, a telescope, and a set of brass scales. We managed to get all of this without much incident (because I got us out of there when I saw Snape. I didn't know if they'd met yet, but I understood that James had hated him on sight or something like that).

Next were the pets.

James already had an owl, but I was determined to get one of my own. Sirius was not allowed any pets, so the only reason we were going was me. So, I'd told them to go and get ice cream, and that I would find them later. They's agreed (though hesitant) and promised to get me a huge sundae. I didn't even protest. I was hungry.

So, here I was, being stared at by what felt like hundreds of animals. Snakes never liked me (mutual), and while cats loved me (I am unsure as to why), I felt like a cat may be troublesome. Plus I wanted an owl.

I nearly cried (or started laughing) when I saw a burrowing owl. They were awkward-looking things who preferred to stay in holes in the ground rather than trees, and I wondered why they kept them here. The owl had long, lanky legs that kept them upright like an egret, and had brown and white flecked feathers, with a circular head and large, yellow eyes. The owl's eyes snapped toward me, and we made eye contact. For once, I was the one looking down (because the owl was standing right in front of me). A few seconds of intense staring later, and the owl flew- actually _flew_ , and it wasn't nighttime or time for hunting!- onto my shoulder, where it stood there, carefully, as if not to pierce the skin. I stared at it for a second, before frowning exaggeratedly in an impressed manner and picking up a cage and other supplies for the owl. I walked to the counter, still feeling amused, right before the violet-haired witch who stared at us in shock. Then she shrugged and wrapped up the supplies, sliding them over the counter in a black plastic bag, "Y'know, that owl usually ignores everybody, so it's surprising that he likes you. Eleven Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut."

Oho, I am such a Mary-Sue. I handed over the money and hung the bag over my arm, choosing to leave the owl out on my shoulder. I walked out into the sunlight, surprised that the dreary day had brightened so quickly. The owl seemed to agree, stretching its wings and shaking its head, shifting its clawed feet without hurting me. It was a rather careful owl, I think.

The owl hissed and clicked its beak at anybody who looked at me for too long. He reminded me of an overprotective brother of some sort.

I caught up with James and Sirius, the owl's hissing alerting Sirius of our presence. He whipped around, James copying his movements, and jerked at the sight of the owl that had flared his wings threateningly. I snorted and smoothed down his feathers, and he calmed down, still giving the two the evil eye. I grinned at their shock, "Who'd've thought they'd have a burrowing owl?"

James gaped, "Is-is that what that is? I've never seen an owl with legs that long, mate!"

"Eh," I shrugged, then plopped down at their little table out front. I noticed it was the same table Harry, Ron, and Hermione would sit at, before taking notice of the huge sundae in front of me, "I won't be able to finish this."

Sirius glared at me, "You can, and you will. _Eat it, chef._ "

I groaned.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Sirius learned not to underestimate me, or turn his back for too long. Both James and the owl seemed to cry with laughter, looking at Sirius's shocked face and his hat of ice cream. I snickered as he shrieked with horror, crying about his hair and how it would take _forever_ to get it out. While the other three occupants of the table made a ruckus that drew the attention of strangers, I waved over Mr. Fortescue, who complied without hesitation, and he looked very amused at Sirius's despair. I spoke over the noise, "Mr. Fortescue, could you please assist my friend? It seems he cannot help himself."

The jolly man smiled, taking out a short wand and giving it a swift flick. The ice cream instantly disappeared, and Sirius's hair was glistening once again. I thanked him, and he walked off, still giggling. I turned to James, "Let's go get our wands, shall we?" James agreed and dragged Sirius up, gathering up both his own and my bags, and placing Sirius's bags on the raven's arms.

I was the first one in the store. I knew when Ollivander was about to appear, because my owl clicked his beak threateningly seconds before the pale-eyed man appeared. I heard Sirius and James jump in shock behind me, but he kept eye contact with me. His pale eyes seemed to be searching for something in mine, and I felt a trickle of apprehension run through me. He seemed to know something he should not, and I briefly wondered if he knew who I was, or what I could do. I shook the thought off. He couldn't.

I spoke, "Are you Mr. Ollivander?"

He grinned mystically, "Yes, I am. First years?"

James spoke up from beside me, and clamped a hand on my other shoulder protectively, "Yessir. We're here for our wands. Here, Sirius, go first." He pushed Sirius towards Ollivander, and the old wizard focused on the Black heir instead.

James pushed me towards the chairs, and shoved me down into one, plopping down into the other. Funnily enough, my owl seemed to approve of James' actions. Odd.

A few explosions later, and Sirius had a 14 ½ inch long, Dogwood (ha) wand with a dragon heartstring core. Soon enough, James held an 11 inch long wand, made of mahogany with a unicorn hair core. I was next.

Mine was rather odd. Dragon heartstring core caused explosions, so no go. The only wood that seemed compatible with me was Fir wood. I knew my wand was supposed to be Fir wood, unicorn hair core, 13 ¾ inches long with unbending flexibility. But when I tried that, the wand shot out of my grasp, like _no, bitch, that's too simple_.

Ollivander hummed curiously, then came out of the back with a wand that looked almost exactly like the previous one, except the design was made of black, flaming vines swirling around the wand, fading into the color of Fir wood near the top of the wand. I admired it closely and picked it up. Exactly like the book said, I felt a warm sensation near my navel, where I guessed my magical energy was mostly gathered, and I flicked the wand simply. The wand purred, and a swirl of glittering dark purple light twisted out of the wand, spreading to the corners of the room and fading out of existence. James whistled and Sirius clapped graciously, my owl hopping excitedly from his place on James' lap. I grinned.

Ollivander said, "13 ¾ inches, Fir wood, and a dual core of phoenix feather and unicorn hair. Impressive, Mr. Rosewood, you will accomplish great things with that wand."

I silently agreed. My magic, while powerful before, felt more...complete, I supposed. I hadn't realized how empty I had felt before now. Well, I was still dead inside, but still.

I thanked Mr. Ollivander, allowed my owl to hop onto my shoulder, and rushed out of the shop. I sighed in relief when we were outside. I felt a hand on my shoulder again, and turned my head to see Sirius's concerned face. I raised a brow.

"Ivy, are you alright? He was creepy," he said, and I sighed, wondering who, exactly, was supposed to be the child here.

I answered, "I'm fine. Siriusly."

James tripped, and Sirius barked a laugh, "Yeah, he's fine. Back to the Leaky Cauldron, I say. You can meet Mr. And Mrs. Potter, eh?"

James jerked upright, "Oh, yeah! C'mon, Ivy, they'll love you! Let's go, mate!" He grabbed my hand and dragged me, Sirius laughing beside us. I saw my owl hiss at them, and decided on a name for him at that moment.

Aegeus.

 **LINE BREAK**

 **Aegeus means 'protector'.**

 **En tant que chef, je mange bien.- As a chef, I eat well.**

 **Tu parle français?- You speak French?**

 **D'où je viens, c'est obligatoire.- Where I come from, it's obligatory (required).**

 **A bit boring, but next up is meeting the Potter's, and the Hogwart's express! Maybe even our favorite werewolf (if your favorite 'werewolf' is Jacob Black, get the fuck outta here and read the books)!**

 **What House do you think Ivy'll be in?**


	5. Chapter 5

**I recently added a cover to the story, and just wanted to let y'all know that unless the internet lied to me, it's the symbol for determination.**

 **Also, I think I'll stop writing the story in first person. I'm not used to that format, so sorry if you liked it that way!**

 **I added a cover to my other story as well, and I guess everyone finds Aurelio (the main character) smexy, because** _ **holy shit**_ **did** __ **the views go up! Aurelio is a little shit, so I gave him good looks because I'm the author and I have POWER.**

 **Also, Aegeus is a really hard name to remember. R.I.P author.**

 **Anyways, on with the story!**

 **LINE BREAK**

Mr. And Mrs. Potter were not what Ivy expected. He knew they were old, but nobody said they apparently aged like fine wine. Ivy thought he'd probably age like a fucking margarita.

Anyways, Mrs. Potter had dark brown, nearly black hair with a few gray hairs at her roots. She had very few wrinkles and looked ten years younger than she actually was. She was pale, and her eyes were a beautiful silver, her eyebrows were thin and arched delicately. She wore almost no makeup, only a clear lip gloss and light mascara. Her hands were small and long-fingered, adorned with a beautiful diamond ring and with clean, unpainted nails. She wore a simple black dress with floral patterns, with long sleeves and ending at her knees, with a pair of simple black heels. Mr. Potter looked more his age, around mid-50's, and his black hair was streaked heavily with grey. He looked a lot like James, with a strong jaw and nose, and he wore square-framed, black glasses. He wore a simple grey suit with a white button-up, it looked expensive. His eyes were sapphire blue with specks of ocean blue, and Ivy briefly wondered where James got his hazel eyes from. Maybe his grandparents, but certainly not from his mother's side, as she used to be a Black, and almost all of their family members had grey or silver eyes.

Almost immediately after being introduced ("Hello, my name is Ivy Rosewood you must be Mr. And Mrs. Potter, pleasure to meet you!") Ivy was pulled into a hug by Mrs. Potter, who stroked his hair soothingly. Ivy, poker-faced as always, decided that maybe this was a test. Mr. Potter seemed amused as he responded casually, "Nice to see my appearance pleases you, Mrs. Potter."

Mr. Potter patted Mrs. Potter's shoulder, "Maybe you should let him go, don't suffocate the boy, Euphemia." His stern tone was ruined by his twinkling eyes.

Mrs. Potter loosened her grip but refused to free Ivy completely. She frowned at her husband. "But he's so fluffy!" Mrs. Potter exclaimed, then muttered only her breath so even Ivy, who was obviously closest to her, couldn't hear, "And so _cute._ "

James and Sirius had been standing awkwardly on the sidelines the whole time, until Ivy sent a half-glare, half-pleading glance at them. Sirius stood behind James for moral support as the hazel-eyed boy spoke up nervously, "Uh...Mum?" Mrs. Potter looked at him questioningly, "Can you let Ivy go? He probably needs to start cooking dinner now."

Mr. Potter raised a brow and Mrs. Potter tilted her head. Mr. Potter asked, "Cook dinner? Is he an assistant?"

Ivy finally pulled himself out of the brunette's grip, "Nah. I'm the chef. These two helped me with breakfast, though," He muttered under his breath, "Tiny little chefs..."

Mrs. Potter sent a reluctant glance at Ivy, then just nodded in acceptance. Mr. Potter looked impressed, his eyebrows raised. Then he nodded at Ivy and followed his wife to a nearby booth against the wall. Ivy's small form disappeared into the kitchen, James and Sirius trailing after him. A few moments later, there was a shout – nearly lost in all the hustle and bustle of the Leaky Cauldron – before both of the future Gryffindors were shoved back out. James stumbled, before falling over completely as Sirius's lean form slammed into his back. Both landed in a cursing heap, trying to rise.

James got up first, Sirius following shortly after. They stared at each other in mutual understanding, before slumping over to the Potter's booth. They slid into the long seat opposite James' parents, both of the adults looking on in amusement. Mr. Potter asked teasingly, "What did you two do?"

Sirius placed his head onto the table mournfully, looking like a kicked puppy. James sighed, "He said he doesn't trust us near fire."

Mr. Potter nodded, "Understandable." Mrs. Potter laughed daintily, looking pleased with Ivy's actions.

It wasn't long before a delectable scent wafted from the kitchen, and some of the customers started to gather their plates, napkins, and silverware. A few minutes later, a few pitchers of various drinks were set out on the bar. Sirius jumped up along with most of the restaurant and asked everybody what they wanted. His head of black hair disappeared into the crowd, coming back five minutes later with a tray of drinks. Sirius had lemonade, Mrs. Potter had a Mint Julep, and Mr. Potter got a whiskey (Tom was fixing drinks). He gave James a sweet tea.

James looked at the glass filled with amber liquid, ice, and lemon slices. He glared at Sirius, who was sitting next to him again, "What's this stuff?"

Sirius smirked, "Ice cold sweet tea, mate. Popular stuff in America."

James jerked back from the glass, looking dumbfounded. " _Cold_ tea?!" He exclaimed, looking suspicious.

Mrs. Potter nudged the glass towards him. "Just try it, James," she lectured, "Americans aren't _completely_ tasteless, you know."

Mr. Potter muttered, "Some would disagree..." He jumped when Mrs. Potter smacked him. "What?!"

"Stop being a bigot," she frowned, then turned back to James, "Just try it, honey. Ivy likes it."

"Alright, alright," James conceded, "I'll try the _cold tea."_ He picked up the glass, closing his eyes and taking a tiny sip. He blinked, ignoring Sirius's questioning stare, "Huh."

"What?" Sirius asked, impatient.

"It's...not bad," James said, taking another, less hesitant sip, "Sweet, actually." Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Well, duh, James, it's called _sweet tea_ ," he muttered, "Idiot."

James was about to retort, but then there was a small cheer from the back of the restaurant, a chubby boy making a victory pose on top of a table as Ivy walked out again, holding a large pot. He placed it on the magically expanding bar. Sirius and James abandoned their drinks and rushed to the kitchen to help bring out the food, feeling famished from shopping all day. The pots were heavy and required maximum effort from the two mischief-makers, and they watched in slight disbelief as Ivy carried the pots and pans full of food out easily. The delicious smell spurred them on, and soon tons of food lay on the counter, arranged neatly in Ivy's corner and dangerously on James and Sirius's side. Tons of food such as baked chicken, brisket, creamed corn, green bean casserole, garlic bread and much, much more provided a very tempting picture. Ivy patted their backs happily, already holding a plate of food. "Good luck," he said, before disappearing into the crowd and leaving the duo to fight for their plates as the other customers began closing in.

There was a rustling of wings and a flash of grey, then Aegeus, his burrowing owl, was standing on his shoulder. Ivy glanced at him briefly, trying to keep his eyes forward, "Where've you been, Aegeus?" The owl tilted his head towards the ceiling, "The rafters? I thought you liked to stay on the ground...?" Aegeus seemed to shrug like 'what can you do', and Ivy just shook his head, far too used to odd things happening to him to question his obviously very intelligent owl. He grabbed a chair from a mostly empty table and set it at the Potter booth, between the two cushioned benches. The couple looked at him expectantly, and he grinned, placing two plates in front of them from seemingly nowhere. Then he settled down in his chair, waiting for Sirius and James to show up after he had abandoned them. Mr. and Mrs. Potter didn't ask questions, choosing to just start eating.

A few minutes of calm eating later, James was standing in front of them, panting and clutching his full plate like a lifeline. Mr. Potter looked amused as he asked, "Where's Sirius?"

James slid into the booth, looking dazed as he answered, "Dunno, I lost him to this chubby kid near the garlic bread. Hopefully he's alive, he owes me nine Sickles."

Ivy got up from his seat, wiping imaginary dust off his pants and straightening his glasses. He sent a brave look to the Potters, Aegeus flying up to rest on his head, "I'll go get him, there's no way he can fight off that kid. Pray for me, deer."

Ivy practically ran out, glad he had the opportunity to make a pun. It was completely unoriginal, but satisfying, even though James obviously didn't get it. He slipped in-between hordes of hungry people, some he could tell were going for seconds. He got knocked to the ground within a few moments, but he used that to his advantage and _rolled_ to the garlic bread. If only he'd made bread rolls instead, then that sentence would've been a lot funnier.

He jumped to his feet at the garlic bread tray, dismissing the fact that somehow Aegeus had managed to stay on the whole time he was rolling, deadpan expression firmly in place. Ivy spotted Sirius laying on the ground, dead to the world as a chubby, mouse-ish boy stood triumphantly over him, filling his already loaded plate with garlic bread. His green eyes narrowed as he felt a stab of recognition, before widening as he finally was able to place that familiar face...

Peter Pettigrew was devouring all of his food, that _ass_.

He dropped to the ground again, ignoring Aegeus's squawk of indignation, and crawling to Sirius military-style on his elbows, his expression still stoic as always. He arrived at his destination and promptly sat down, stuck out a leg, and _kicked_ the Black heir. Said heir jolted upright, brows furrowed and eyes questioning. Ivy answered him before he could ask the question, "Leaky Cauldron, garlic bread, chubby kid is right there. Go fix your plate, dumbass."

Sirius tried to scowl, but it looked like a pout instead, being eleven and all. Ivy didn't give him the chance to speak, _again,_ "Yes, we'll get our revenge on the school train, now _go._ You're barking up the wrong tree here."

Sirius walked off, still pouting but brighter at the thought of revenge, and didn't get to see Ivy throw himself on the ground sideways. Ivy honestly was both proud and ashamed of himself and sat there for quite a few minutes.

He was brought back to reality when Aegeus hopped onto the side of his head. He tried to get the owl to move, but no. Aegeus is unmovable, a huge rock. Ivy just resigned himself to his fate and stood up slowly, as to not disturb the owl. He walked slowly back to the booth with his head tilted completely sideways and an odd owl resting on his head, which brought a bout of laughter and incredulity from the whole table, including Sirius, who had just arrived with a plate laden with meat.

It felt oddly nice to fit in.

 **KU-FUFUFU LINE BREAK**

The Potters where the ones to drop all three children off, obviously. Since the Blacks low-key abandoned Sirius and Ivy high-key abandoned his.

At Platform 9 ¾, Mrs. Potter hugged Ivy for the nth time while Mr. Potter started to remind James and Sirius for the nth time to not get expelled, and not to let him catch the two of them being troublemakers. Here the two Marauders shared a look, catching the hidden meaning: Don't get caught.

Mrs. Potter let Ivy go and held him at arm's length, giving him a quick once-over. He thought he looked normal enough, with a black and white plaid button-up rolled at the elbows, faded blue jeans, and black converse. She spoke to him softly, "Keep James and Sirius from getting caught, okay? Make more friends, don't irritate the professors, eat lots of food and get plenty of sleep-" Ivy nearly snorted, he was definitely a night owl, "-and remember that whatever House you get into, we won't mind. Just be yourself." Mrs. Potter pinched his cheeks and he pulled away, mumbling nonsense and rubbing his cheeks. She smirked, and turned to her husband, "Alright, Fleamont, I think they get the picture, now stop fussing. If I know Ivy even a little bit, and I know I do, he won't let them get caught by anybody, not even Dumbledore." She winked at Ivy, who let a tiny grin slip through. Ivy was sad to leave the Potters, but he was even more eager to get to Hogwarts. And Remus. Gotta remember that one.

After what felt like forever, the three young males boarded the train just as it started to whistle, signaling that it would be leaving soon. They waved furiously at the couple until the Potters were out of sight. Then they just looked at each other awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed. Then Ivy took the initiative to clap his hands together as if he were a Kindergarten teacher leading the class on a field trip.

He even talked in the same tone, "Alright, troops! Let's go try to not be socially awkward!" The other two let out an almighty cheer, startling other students in a nearby compartment.

Ivy had, luckily, bought a trunk with wheels on it, and had encouraged the other two to have Mrs. Potter add wheels to theirs. So, with an owl on his head and fiery spirit in his heart, Ivy led the group to search the compartments. Several times Sirius and James had found compartments with enough room for all of them, but then Ivy would continue without them and they'd be forced to follow. Then, near the end of the train, a little ways from the Prefect's compartment, Ivy found what he wanted to find. A short-ish, thin, scarred boy with sandy brown hair and amber eyes, reading a book and occasionally shifting nervously. Ivy nearly jumped for joy, but held it in as he observed the pale boy. 'A little Remus Lupin, _ohmygod,_ ' Ivy fangirled - er, boyed? - internally, before straightening himself and strengthening his resolve – the other two boys were looking at him expectantly – before knocking on the compartment door.

The boy's head snapped up, and his amber eyes widened when he saw an owl peeping into the compartment ( **the windows are fairly tall and Ivy had to stand on his tiptoes to see inside** ) nosily. Remus furrowed his brows before walking to the door nervously, sliding it open and questioning his sanity. Then he noticed what the owl was perched on, and his eyes widened involuntarily, a brow raising. A ( _very_ ) short boy who looked his age, maybe a year younger, stood outside, looking at him curiously, his big, alligator green eyes sparkling behind white-framed, square glasses. He had fluffy, silky, dark blonde hair, tan skin, and a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. The only reason Remus could tell (or he assumed) it was a boy was because of the boyish clothes and short hair, because let's face it, the small boy was feminine. His lashes were long and dark – something unfair since he had light hair – and everything – his nose, his shoulders, basically his whole _body_ \- was tiny. Then he took note of the two boys standing behind the small boy, their positions around him almost defensive. The one on the left was tall with dark skin, with soft hazel eyes, messy black hair, and round, wired glasses. His lips were thin, lashes thick, and his eyebrows strong and defined, with a strong jaw as well. He was wearing a red hoodie, blue jeans, and trainers. Remus's eyes slipped off of him to land on the other boy. He, like the other, was tall and handsome, especially for such a young age. He had grey, narrow eyes, with defined black brows that matched his head of hair that fell to his shoulders, silky with one side swept behind his ear. His face was pale, a contrast to the both of the other boys, with a slim body. He wore a white button-up, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, with black slacks and shiny black loafers. While the two taller ones had their wands stuffed in their pockets, the smaller one had his wand in a dark, leather thigh holster. Remus turned his attention back to the first boy when he spoke, "Hey there, can we sit in this compartment? If you don't mind, of course."

Remus nodded dumbly, shifting himself out of the trio's path, the short one walking in with his head held high, as if he owned the place. He lifted his trunk easily, hopping to place it above their heads simply, before carefully placing a cage with a disgruntled owl in it next to his trunk. The other two followed suit, gazing suspiciously at Remus the whole time.

Remus felt uncomfortable, the stares very similar to the ones he got from his father after he was bitten. He felt his body shift back unconsciously.

He jumped when a loud thud was heard. The small boy had nudged the one with glasses so that the huge trunk he carried fell on top of both him and the boy with long hair. As the two collapsed to the floor unceremoniously, the cause of the trouble bumped his shoulder against Remus's arm, smirking, "Sorry about them, they were _told_ to behave," he grabbed Remus's hand, shaking it firmly, "Ivy Rosewood, pleasure."

Meanwhile, Ivy was internally screeching. A calm person he may be, but seeing a smol Remus Lupin was just _too much_ for his frail heart! Plus, he just knocked Sirius and James down for the umpteenth time in a few days, and it would suffice to say that he felt a tradition coming. But seriously, _smol Remus._

Smol Remus shook his hand automatically, and replied back, "R-Right back at you, Ivy. My name's Remus Lupin." _Moon Moon._ J.K Rowling, how original.

Suddenly Smol Remus seemed to grow nervous, "T-That is, if I can call you Ivy...?"

"Smo- I mean, Remus, of course you can," Ivy said calmly, catching himself just in time. Ignoring Remus's raised brow, he turned back to the still groaning pile of Gryffindor behind him. Ivy rested his hands on his hips, looking down at them with both eyebrows raised. When the two refused to budge, he sighed irritably, straightened himself, and lifted the heavy trunk with a small grunt, As the duo turned grateful eyes toward Ivy, he dropped the trunk back onto them with a heavy thud.

"Oops," Ivy deadpanned, not looking sorry at all. As the two shrieked in unison, Ivy turned his head to Smol Remus, who snorted at the other's expressionless face. Ivy gestured to the empty seats, and they both sat as the other two finally pulled themselves together and lifted their trunks into the space above, grumbling angrily. When they finished, the two Gryffindors plopped down into the seats in front of Ivy and Remus, Sirius across from Ivy and James across from Remus.

Remus, feeling considerably more confident now, grinned at the two and introduced himself, "I'm Remus Lupin, and you two are...?"

"Potter, James Potter," James muttered. Nobody heard Ivy's mumble of "Bond, James Bond."

"And my name's Sirius Black. Nice to meet ya, Remus," Sirius said, much more energetically compared to James. He seemed less defensive now that he knew Ivy was alright with Remus, much like a dog might be okay with someone his owner liked.

Suddenly, there was the sound of their compartment door sliding open yet again. They all turned in curiosity.

Ivy grimaced when he saw who it was. A chubby, mouse-like boy with sandy hair and watery blue eyes. Guess. Just guess.

Peter-fucking-Pettigrew.

The chubby boy wore the Hogwarts uniform already, the lack of coloration on his robes showing that he was a first year. He looked nervous but didn't seem inclined to move anytime soon.

As Remus greeted the boy, being the closest, Sirius leaned in to ask Ivy, "What's wrong?" He seemed to have caught Ivy's expression, even if it had flitted across his features for only half a second. James turned his head to the conversation as well.

Ivy struggled to find an excuse, his expression carefully blank, before settling on a half-truth. He stated in false reluctance, "I don't want to judge too quickly, but that's the same greedy fellow that kept stealing food and didn't pay for it." It wasn't a lie, Peter had, in fact, eaten more food than he paid for – which was something he was unused to, as mostly everyone in his home state had been honest people, or they at least were nice to the chef and tried to make friends with him/her before trying to get their food for free (which wasn't terrible, as those people were honestly amusing) - but he didn't like Peter because of how cowardly he was. He honestly thought the Sorting Hat made a mistake, putting him in Gryffindor. Both of the Pureblood's eyes narrowed as they caught was Ivy was saying. A greedy and dishonest person, they hated those people. Ivy continued in a low voice, "Plus, that's the one who knocked Sirius over trying to get to the garlic bread."

As James and Sirius jerked backwards in shock, Remus twitched slightly, his voice becoming less friendly as he continued to talk to the boy. Ivy knew that Remus heard, his senses were heightened because of Moony, after all.

Still, it seemed Peter was stubborn, because a few seconds later and he was joining their previously comfortable group, plopping down right next to the Purebloods and ignoring Ivy and Remus completely.

Ivy just leaned back, crossed his arms, and waited for the magic to happen.

 **WOW I SURE DO LOVE LINE BREAKS**

The ride to Hogwarts was rather enjoyable to Remus and Ivy, who loved to watch as James and Sirius grew steadily more irritated with Peter as time went on. By the time the train stopped, the two boys – now decked out in their uniform, along with Remus and Ivy – nearly ran to where the other first years were gathering, James heaving along an amused Remus and Sirius dragging a laughing Ivy with them. Ivy pulled himself together when he heard a familiar call.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" A large, bearded man called out, towering over the many children gathered around him and holding a lantern above their heads. Remus jumped when he saw him, and Ivy nearly fell over. James and Remus finally let them go when they joined the others.

"He's so _fluffy_ ," Ivy whispered to himself, ignoring Remus's wide-eyed yet amused stare. The four gathered to a boat as instructed, and moved just as slowly as the others. James groaned at the pace they were going.

"It's so _slow_ ," Sirius muttered, brow twitching in irritation. Remus ignored the two, but tuned in when Ivy spoke.

"How fast do you want to go?" Ivy said, one eyebrow raised in question. James looked over curiously as Sirius answered.

"As fast as possible, mate," the Black heir said automatically, looking at the blonde in anticipation. Said blonde smirked, then placed his hands on either side of the boat. There was the sound of rushing water, a flailing motion from Remus, and then in a second their boat was at the shore, tipping forward dangerously. Ivy went with the motion and stepped onto shore, taking Remus with him so the werewolf didn't get wet.

Then, two large splashes as James and Sirius tumbled forward into the Black Lake. The freezing cold, shallow water made the two scramble to shore, soaking wet and shivering, before they fell face-down onto the ground. Both were grinning.

Ivy and Remus heaved them to their feet, and took out their wands. One flick and a _Scourgify_ later, and the two were mud-free. Though still completely soaked.

James looked excitedly at Ivy, still grinning. He asked him, "How'd you do that?"

Ivy shrugged, "Much easier than a cargo ship."

"What?"

"What?"

"I said 'what'."

"Me, too."

Ivy was saved from having to explain as Hagrid stomped up from behind then, looking awed, shocked, and just a little angry. He asked loudly, "Wha' was tha' for, Mr...?"

"Lupin."

"Black."

"Potter."

"Rosewood."

"Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Rosewood, wha' was tha' for?" Hagrid continued easily, looking exasperated. The other first years looked at them curiously from behind Hagrid.

Ivy answered, "The boats were too slow for our patience, sir. I fear these two hooligans-" Ivy patted Sirius and James' shoulders, "-might've flipped the boat and gotten wet had the slow pace continued." Hagrid looked pointedly at the two's appearance, and Ivy continued easily, "Better two than four, sir."

Hagrid nodded and walked over to the huge doors imbedded into Hogwarts. The four boys, who had gone too fast to see the castle, looked awed at the huge stone walls. Ivy skipped after Hagrid, feeling elated. The two Purebloods scurried after, Remus strolling after them all at a much calmer pace. The doors had already opened, and the four managed to get in just before the doors closed, gazing around in wonder at the tall ceiling. While the other three were in awe of the building, however, Ivy was much more focused on a tall, stiff woman wearing rich navy robes at the front.

Hagrid passed them by, exiting the building and disappearing into the school grounds. Ivy was still staring at Professor McGonagall.

She looked pretty young, possibly early thirties. So, she seemed younger than what the movies portrayed her as, though a lot more was accurate. Dark hair in a tight bun – though her hair looked thicker – with a pointed hat that matched her robes atop her head. Her eyebrows were arched and delicate, below them a pair of round, grey-blue eyes lined with dark, thin lashes. Her nose was straight and pointed, lips thin, pinched, and colored a wine-red. She seemed to be made of angles, with a pointed chin and straight back, but she had subtle curves at her hips and chest area. While not beautiful, she had an air of grace around her that would attract many.

Though right now she was glaring sternly at Sirius and James, so Ivy may have been distracted (he still can admire Minnie being a queen, though).

Professor McGonagall delivered a speech Ivy knew from heart, "Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few moments you will pass through these doors and join your classmates, but before you take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now while you're here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup."

Ivy and Remus exchanges a glance at 'rule breaking'. Sirius looked nervous at the talk of houses, though, and Ivy leaned in from behind him to whisper, "If it helps, Sirius, I know I won't be in Gryffindor." Sirius jerked around, confused. Ivy continued calmly, "I really don't care about houses, dude. James and Remus will probably be in Gryffindor. I won't be. Plus, why worry? You're possibly the most Gryffindor person _I've_ had the pleasure of meeting."

Sirius sent him a relieved grin, and turned back around. They all shifted into a single line, with James first, then Sirius, then Ivy, and finally, Remus. None of them knew where Peter went.

The first years entered the Great Hall, gazing around in even greater awe. Ivy saw the spirits that were already gathered in the Great Hall, each of the house spirits at their respective tables **(I know it's 'house ghosts', but I call them spirits because that's what everybody in the American South calls them. Okay bye** ). The other students looked at the first years with gazes ranging from interest, irritation, to boredom. They all watched as a hat was brought out, and placed on a stool. The hat's brim opened wide, and Ivy watched in anticipation as it started to sing,

(This song is not mine- it was made by Parsley the Lion on this website. NOT MINE BUT ITS AWESOME.)

 _Be you short or tall,_

 _Large or small;_

 _I am the hat_

 _That is here to sort you all._

 _I am here to choose the table_

 _Where you will be sat,_

 _I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat!_

 _If you are academically able,_

 _Hardworking, wise, and smart,_

 _Ravenclaw is where you fit the part._

 _If you are crafty and sly;_

 _Always willing to reach for the sky:_

 _Slytherin is where your loyalties lie._

 _If you are friendly, loyal, and true;_

 _Hufflepuff is the place for you._

 _If you are brave_

 _And adventure is what you crave:_

 _Gryffindor is the home for such a knave._

 _So put me on and meet your fate._

 _Make haste; don't be late._

 _Take care_

 _And begin this adventure if you dare..._

'Oooo, ominous. I wanna be in Ravenclaw, I is very smart!' Ivy thought, feeling excited. He knew he wouldn't be in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, but he was excited to see where he went. A few names he recognized were called from Minnie, such as Abbott and...Black, Sirius!

The apprehensive boy walked nervously to the sorting hat. It was placed on his head easily. Not even one minute passed before..."GRYFFINDOR!"

Remus joined him, a few names after him was James. To their horror, Peter was placed in Gryffindor as well. Then a few minutes later and..."Rosewood, Ivy!"

The small boy strolled over to the stool, hearing whispers of how 'small', 'delicate', and...'pretty' (?) he was. He feels like a woman again. He sat on the stool, where the hat was lowered onto his messy hair. He immediately felt the penetration of his mind, and then a voice, ' _Well, well, this is odd. I can't seem to break through your walls, Mr. Rosewood. Mind explaining why?'_

A few seconds, then, ' _Ah, nevermind, I can feel your confusion. Luckily, I think I've got a good feel on a few of your memories, though there are some that are blocked off, perhaps unconsciously. But, let's see here...hmm. Yes, you are a hardworking boy, aren't you? Very loyal, very stubborn...kind, too. Definitely not a pushover. Smart, exceptionally so. Brave when it counts, but not prone to bouts of idiotic bravery. Not underhanded, but cunning, and a grand liar. I can put you in any house, Mr. Rosewoo- what? Really?'_ The Sorting Hat's voice sounded 100% done. ' _Food? That's what matters to you? You just- *sigh*. Fine.'_

"HUFFLEPUFF! You are hilarious Mr. Rosewood." Everybody could hear the Sorting Hat say that and felt confused. What had just happened? The three Gryffindors felt disappointed, but most of all confused. Why wasn't he in Gryffindor? He could be, they knew that!

Their confusion disappeared when Ivy pumped his fist into the air, and said, face still in a calm expression, "Victory. Dorms near the kitchens," then walked off to the black and yellow decorated table. The 'Puffs were grinning.

Remus sighed in resignation and watched as James handed Sirius five Sickles.

 _ **FINAL LINE BREAK**_

 **They made a bet, Sirius won. Also, I got motivated when someone asked me to update more, and all I could think was "I'M TRYING! SOS, AUTHOR NEEDS WIFI!"**

 **But I did it, God bless. Let me know, guys, if you want me to skim over first year, or do it detailed. If I skim over it, I'll then do a time skip to fifth year, when they become animagi. Either way, I'll make the scene where they discover Moony detailed. If nobody answers, I'll do a skim over for one or two chapters, then skip to fifth year. Let me know, fwiends!**

 **Aaah, I should go do something else non-social.**

 **Ciaossu, fellow Potterheads!~**

 **(Also, I know for certain there is one person who gets the 'ciaossu' reference. It's literally in their name, I love that person!)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Got a new puppy. Rat Russell – Jack Russell/ Rat Terrier mix. Cute af but bad as hell.**

 **Also, would recommend this mix, because they take care of mice and snakes (one time our Jack Russell, Molly, (who was like, 15 pounds) killed a 6 ft long snake. I think it was poisonous, too, but she didn't get bitten. Also, when they do get bitten like, say, a cottonmouth, they don't die, usually you just keep them in the house while they heal. You can tell if they get bitten because one time when our other Jack Russell, Pistache, got bitten, her cheeks swelled up for** _ **weeks.**_ **She is a very bitter dog.)**

 **We named the pup Jack, and he is a little shit.**

 **Anyway.**

 **ONWARD!**

 _ **I LOVE MY JOB (line break)**_

The most notable thing about the Hufflepuffs was their love towards food. Maybe that was one of the requirements to get into the house, but it just wasn't mentioned because it was not a very 'bragworthy' feature. Though the 'Puffs seemed to think otherwise (even though he is a 'Puff himself, the proof being the Hufflepuff crest on his robes and the change from black to black and yellow on his tie and the linings of his previously plain black robes. He wondered if somebody spelled the robes to work that way, or if it was just a charm placed on the Great Hall itself. He hoped it was possible to change the colors, at least temporarily, as he definitely planned on infiltrating the Gryffindor dorms)

The boy beside him definitely had a special love for food, chowing down on everything within reach. While this behavior caused some disdainful glares from the Slytherin and even Ravenclaw tables (though some of the 'Claws just looked amused), the other students wearing yellow and black ties just ignored the bad table manners, one older student even passing the ravenous boy some bread rolls. Ivy definitely approved of the boy's appetite, thinking that the world would be a better place if everybody, including those stick-thin girls he remembered from his old country, ate that much. He had never, not even in his previous life, felt disgust towards heavy people. You never knew if they had some illness or if eating was their way of coping with stress, after all.

Plus, fluffy people gave the best hugs.

Though, oddly, the boy he was sneaking glances at seemed to have great metabolism, as he was only a little chubby, and it looked like leftover baby-fat. He wore the standard uniform, with a yellow-lined, black sweater vest, a yellow and black-striped tie, a white button-up (though it was short-sleeved), grey, ironed slacks, shiny black loafers, and the school robes, open at the front. The boy had tan skin and copper-ginger hair, an odd combination. His eyes, wide with food-induced happiness, were an absolutely beautiful color of green-blue. The edges of his iris were a dark turquoise, fading to light blue before abruptly changing into emerald green, and they were marbled in a way that gave the illusion of looking into the shallow, vibrant ocean, and they were lined by thin, dark lashes. He had high cheekbones that Ivy knew would be sharp in the future. His lips were thin and nose sharp, his eyes narrow but not to the point of looking Asian. His sharply arched eyebrows gave him a slightly aggressive look and were a shade darker than his hair. His left eyebrow was split, giving him a delinquent look. This 'look' was contradicted by the food-induced happiness he wore on his face.

Ivy was awed at the amount of food he was eating. Ivy himself adores food, but he can't eat much, because he had a limited supply when he was really, really smol, and so his body was unused to large amounts of food. He couldn't even eat two pancakes, and he cursed his childhood to hell when he realized that. His rights were being violated!

Suddenly, the sound of food being shoved into the boy's mouth halted. Ivy looked up from his meagerly filled plate curiously, tilting his head when he saw the copper-haired boy blinking at him. Then the boy spoke in a roughish voice, "That's all you're gonna eat? No wonder you're so tiny, dude!"

Ivy felt his expression morph into a complete deadpan. "Believe me," he said exasperatedly, "I wish I could eat more. The whole feast, if you will."

"Wait," the boy said sharply, recognition flickering across his features, "you're the first year that wanted to be in Hufflepuff just because of where the dorms are located, aren't you?"

When Ivy nodded, the boy continued cluelessly, "So, quick question; are you a boy or a girl?"

A girl a few seats away groaned, while Ivy remained unaffected. This was not the first, and definitely not the last, time somebody had asked him this question. He hoped that when he grew older, he would become more recognizable as a male, but he had serious doubts. Even the short hair didn't help his case ( **It's like Yukimura Tooru's hairstyle. There's a specific fanart I like to use to visualize, and it's the second picture for me when I type in 'yukimura tooru' on search. And the other boy's hair looks like 707's from Mystic Messenger. Hopefully this helps you visualize.)** , because he's seen plenty of girls with short hairstyles! So, he pushed aside his ire and answered calmly, "I'm a male, last time I checked. Can I please devour my meager meal now?"

The boy grinned and asked sheepishly, "What's your name? I'm Alex Kokinos, a third year."

"Ivy Rosewood," Ivy conceded, "first year. Where are you from? I'm from the southern part of America. Ever heard of Louisiana?"

Alex shrugged, "I know about their oil industry, and the seafood there, but that's it. I'm from Greece, I transferred to Hogwarts in the middle of first year."

That explained the accent. "Really?" Ivy leaned forward, "How many languages do you speak, then? I know English, French, and a little bit of Spanish and German – because that's where my ancestors came from – but that's about it."

"Eeehhhh..." Alex trailed off, tapping his chin in thought, "I know Greek, English, French, some Italian, and a little German. My mother pushed me to know English and German, but I learned the rest on my own. My personal favorite, besides Greek, is French."

"Oh," Ivy said, looking vaguely surprised. Though that may have been because the food had disappeared and was replaced with desserts. Alex narrowed his eyes.

"Aye, _bête_ firstie! _Maintenant vous ne pouvez pas manger!_ " Alex exclaimed, then caught himself. "Ah, sorry, English..." (*stupid. *now you can not eat!)

"Je vous ai dit que je pouvais parler français, Alex," Ivy monotoned, putting some English toffee on his plate. (*I told you I could speak French, Alex.)

Alex looked sufficiently shocked. Then: "Conversations secrètes?" (*Secret conversations?)

"Enfer ouais." (*Hell yeah.)

The rest of the feast was spent eating desserts and, for some reason, a very difficult round of Trivia.

Alex stared attentively at Ivy, "What is a misandrist?"

Ivy crossed his arms, resting them on the table, "A person who hates men."

Alex flipped his plate over when he threw his hands up in frustration, "Pourquoi connaissez-vous une telle information inutile?!" (*Why do you know such useless information?!)

Ivy shrugged, smirking in a very Slytherin way, "C'est ce qu'on appelle «ne pas avoir de vie»." (*This is called "not having a life.")

Before Alex could destroy something precious – like another golden plate – Dumbledore stood up, clapping his hands for attention. "Alright, you all have a big day of classes ahead of you! Off you trot, students!"

Ivy got up and started off towards the Gryffindor table. He waved off Alex's questioning look and trotted off calmly, feeling oddly energetic. When he was close enough, he waved to Remus, who was the first to notice his blonde head bobbing along, weaving between the students and spinning a Ravenclaw out of the way. The werewolf smiled and nudged Sirius, who nudged James, who tripped in surprise and nearly knocked down a fifth year. The girl just straightened him and started to follow the crowd, flipping her mane of multi-colored hair over her shoulder. James glared at Sirius, "Oi, what was that for? Oh, hey Ivy!"

The freckled boy smirked and crossed his arms casually. "Should we meet at the Gryffindor table in the morning?" Ivy asked, shifting his leg.

Sirius nodded enthusiastically, "Yeah! Shame we couldn't have all been in the same House, though. We could've been dormmates!"

As James agreed disappointedly, Ivy looked over Remus's shoulder and nearly giggled. Remus noticed and asked with a feeling of dread, "What?"

"Good luck with your dormmate," he answered amusedly, lips tugging into a knowing grin, "and hide your snacks, James."

"What?" James asked confusedly, "what are you talking abou- oh."

Sirius looked behind him and growled, "That irritating shmuck? Now I _really_ wish we were in the same House."

Ivy noticed Alex waving at him frantically from across the Great Hall, next to the steadily moving Hufflepuffs. "I'll find a way to sneak in, no worries," he shrugged, turning around. He waved at the trio behind him and said loudly, already moving, "Remember, Sirius, revenge is _necessary!_ "

Even if Ivy couldn't see him, he knew Sirius was grinning, and could feel the exasperated air of Remus. He jogged to Alex and started to tug him along. The redhead followed without complaint, looking curious. "Who was that?" Alex asked, moving his arm out of Ivy's grip with difficulty.

The two walked with the other Hufflepuffs near the back. Ivy answered, "The one with brown hair is Remus Lupin, the one with long black hair is Sirius Black, and the one with glasses is James Potter." He stuck to the simple definitions.

Alex looked surprised when he responded, "Woah, you're buddies with two Pureblood heirs? What's Black like? Heard his family's insane."

Ivy felt his eyebrow twitch irritably, and Alex quickly backtracked, "H-He looks like a decent bloke!"

Ivy grinned lazily, "He is. Bit too energetic, like James, but he has good morals. And before you ask, yes, Moon Moon. He's a total bookworm, by the way. He admitted his luggage is seventy percent books."

"Like you, Mr. Hogwarts: A History?" Alex poked his side, and Ivy jumped away like a startled rabbit.

"Hey, it has some interesting shit!" Ivy protested, frowning playfully (read: pouting).

"Language!" Somebody called from the front of the line, and Ivy had to suppress a snort, letting his amusement out in a puff of air. 'Steve Rogers,' he thought to himself, 'this House is going to be a bunch of Steve Rogers.'

Suddenly the crowd halted, and Alex had to grab Ivy's arm to make him stop. As Ivy grinned at him sheepishly, the Prefect at the front explained how to get into the common room. "Alright, midgets," the girl with grey-dyed hair started off, "So, the Hufflepuff room may not be well-hidden – there are only so many big ass stacks of barrels – it is well-protected. Though not really. All you do is take this barrel – _yes, it has to be this one_ \- and tap out the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff' with your wand. If you tap the wrong one, or tap out the wrong rhythm, you get some weird shit poured onto you. None of us know what it is. So, do it wrong – public humiliation. Follow me, minions."

The girl with grey hair and hazel eyes tapped out 'Helga Hufflepuff' on the barrel with her wand. The whole row of barrels rose, leaving a quaint crawlspace. The tall girl crawled in on all fours, beckoning the others with one hand. Alex and Ivy followed without hesitation, Ivy because he knew how Hogwarts worked and Alex because he has been here for a few years. The space was small but clean, with wood-patterned tiles forming the walls, ceiling, and floor. Thirty seconds of crawling in the warmly lit area later, they all arrived in a homely room. There were huge, circular windows across from the small entrance door, near the ceiling, with plants hanging nearby the windows. The walls, and ceiling were made of pale brick, with oak wood panels making up the bottom quarter of the walls and floor, and there was a large, square carpet near the fireplace, which was stone and below the circular windows. The cushioned armchairs surrounded the carpet, with a large, round, glass coffee table in the middle. Paintings made with warm colors hung on the walls, and scattered across the large, square room were study tables and bookshelves. On either side of the fireplace were circular wooden hatches surrounded by dark bricks. The grey-haired girl pointed them out, "To the left we have the girl's dorms, and to the right are the boy's. Nobody can enter the other gender's dorm room unless they have permission, because we trust nobody. Girls are no less trustworthy than boys, and we Hufflepuffs believe in gender equality."

"We're gonna keep this short and sweet," the Prefect girl called out, looking at all of the Hufflepuffs, "Be nice to people if they are nice to you. It's okay to fuck them up if they fuck you or, more importantly, your friends up. If you fuck shit up, don't get caught. Everybody thinks we're duffers, let's keep it that way until further notice. We also have a – what was it called? - 'secret society' of Hufflepuffs that literally nobody knows about. Come to David if you want to join, we have a meeting once a month. Alright, that's all, go get some sleep, weaklings."

As the other first years moved to their dorms, Ivy looked to Alex for answers. The sea-eyed male shrugged, "Yeah, we have a secret society. We don't even have a name for it, we just cause chaos and eat sticky toffee pudding afterwards. You should join, just go find David at the Slytherin table."

"Why's he at the Slytherin table?"

"He's Slytherin. Somebody gave him a Hufflepuff tie and now he can just sleep wherever he wants. I don't even know where he came from. We just don't talk about David."

Ivy looked at David. He was unassuming enough. Messy brown hair, dark green eyes, plump lips, and a straight nose. He looked decent enough, and his Hufflepuff robes were neat. David just sat in a throne-like armchair by the lit fire, writing something down rapidly in his notebook, face blank. Ivy leaned in to get a better look at the notebook, feeling disbelief he spotted another one right below it. It was thin and black, with a flimsy cover. There was jagged white writing on the front, and he could see the words '-eth Note.' The rest wasn't visible to Ivy, but he had a good idea of what it was. 'How the hell did he get the notebook of death?! Welp, better not piss off David,' he thought to himself, before deciding he'd seen enough to know what this year was going to be like. He sent a quick goodbye to Alex, who grinned at him and nodded, before opening the Hufflepuff hatch and heaving himself inside. Unlike the crawlspace, the hallway was big and square, and he could see that the large doors had different year numbers on them. The nearest to the door was seventh, and he guessed it was that way so that the first years got the most protection in case of an infiltration. Smart.

He worked his way down the hall, noticing that the even numbers were on the right and the odd numbers were on the left. The gray plaques had a thick black outline, with the handwriting of the people in the dorm rooms on them. He noticed a sixth year writing his name on his plaque, and guessed that they were wiped clean when the year ended. There were four people in each dorm, and five dorms per year. The lamps that lined the hallway glowed softly, emitting warm yellow light beneath their clear glass casing. Finally, Ivy arrived at a dorm room with his name in – holy shit – comic sans! As soon as he stopped in front of the plaque, it erased itself, and a black, thick marker popped into existence in front of his face, dropping into his automatically outstretched hands. He blinked his half-lidded eyes, before shrugging and writing his first and last name in his artsy (messy) handwriting. He dropped the marker as soon as he was done, watching closely as the marker disappeared. He might experiment with that later.

He glanced at the other names on the plaque. Davien Jonas – very, very messy handwriting – Ryan Jonas – neat handwriting, and brothers, how nice – and Evan Carey – very loopy handwriting. He'd bet all of his money that these three are American.

Ivy slid open the door, poking his head in curiously, and felt a large amount of dismay at seeing the other boys' height. He shook that thought off quickly. Two of the boys were very obviously twins, both with light mocha skin and freckles, with darker brown hair that had light brown highlights. One of the tall boys wore a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, and his hair was ruffled. His lips were pulled into an impish grin, showing white teeth. He wore the standard uniform with the long robes. His brother had a pair of wire, square glasses, and was sitting on one of the soft-looking beds with black and yellow quilt covers. His thin hands were holding a thin book about magical creatures. His hair was brushed but still too wavy to be called neat, and he had ditched the uniform in favor of a pair of green flannel pajamas. His brother was chatting with another tall, thin boy. The other boy looked to be of Asian descent, with narrow, black eyes and thick, spiky black hair. He was shorter than the other two and looked to be a centimeter shorter than Sirius. Still way too tall. Ivy was getting bitter.

The boy with thick glasses noticed him first. The grinning boy gestured him over, and Ivy frowned, stepping into the room and walking up to the taller boy. Said boy's grin widened as he crouched to Ivy's level, and the short boy's mouth twitched in irritation, his large green eyes becoming lifeless. He really, really hoped he grew. Damn mother's genes.

The boy who was crouched to his height ruffled his already messy hair, and Ivy's soul nearly left his body. Maybe that was a bit dramatic, but right now he was suffering in silence. The other boy spoke in a friendly tone, "Hey, there little buddy! What's your name? I'm Davien, and the dude over there-" he pointed to his twin, "- is my awesome brother, Ryan!"

Said awesome brother nodded calmly at Ivy, who managed a small bob of his head, cheeks tinted pink in his annoyance. Davien was obviously speaking down to him, and he had no right to. He didn't travel through universes just to be disrespected, damn it!

Regardless, he managed what he thought was a polite tone, "Nice to meet you, my name's Ivy Rosewood." He'd rather keep this conversation short, he was becoming tired. His physical age was eleven, after all.

There was an odd strangled noise from behind Davien, who raised his eyebrows, looking over his shoulder. "You alright there, Evan?" Davien asked. The raven's nod said he was, but his eyes said that what Davien just asked was a rhetorical question. Definitely not okay.

Evan pushed himself in front of Ivy, who looked up at him curiously. Evan spoke with a distinctive accent, different from an American's or a Brit's, "Can I call you Rosewood-chan?" Ivy looked on in dawning realization. He must be Japanese. But why such a non-Japanese name?

"Eh, you can call me by my first name, if you want?" Evan looked delighted.

"Yay, Ivy-chan! So cute, Davien-kun!" The taller boy nodded in agreement.

Ryan marked his page, set the book down, along with his glasses, got under the sheets, and rolled over so he was face-down, his body limp. Ivy wanted to do the same.

But he was a good soldier. He engaged in conversation. "So, Evan, is English your first language?"

The raven shook his head, "No, no. Both my parents Japanese but gave me American name! They do not speak English, I was taught by sadistic tutor! Very scary," his apprehensive look was replaced quickly by a grin, "and you can call me Evan-senpai."

"But we're the same age."

"Ah, so you know Japanese custom? Call me Onii-chan!"

" _But we're the same age."_

"No. I arrive later than everyone else. Thirteen!"

"What the fu- _Evan-kun."_

"No. **I am your senpai."**

"Why did it sound like you were about to tell me you were my creator?"

" _ **Konnichiwa."**_

"What the fuck."

Davien backed away carefully, pausing at his trunk to pick up some pajamas, and backing into the bathroom, shutting the door. Traitor.

Ivy sighed. "Fine, Evan- _senpai._ Can I go to bed now?"

Evan nodded happily, all previous oddness gone. "I learned that aura from my tutor! You are very strong backbone, Ivy-chan~"

Ivy just shrugged and began to gather his pajamas and toiletries, grateful for the second bathroom. Hufflepuff was weird.

 **(-Wow I sure hope I haven't offended anyone-)**

Ivy woke up to something incredible. He's being absolutely serious, it was majestic.

Ryan – who looked like a calm person – had judo-flipped his twin. There was no better explanation. Evan, who had been looking at the scene of Ryan – who was panting and looking ruffled – and Davien – who was red-faced and panicked, a pile of stress on the floor – bonding from his bed right next to Ivy, smiled serenely at the small American, saying nothing.

Ivy didn't ask.

 **(EH)**

When Ivy – dressed in yellow converse, grey slacks, a white, long-sleeved button-up, a black sweater vest, and a yellow and black striped tie ( no robes in sight) - trotted over to the Marauders, a cheerful Asian boy following happily, they were all a little confused. Not because of him sitting at the Gryffindor table, but because Ivy had apparently just picked up a fucked-up puppy. Like, _really_ fucked up.

As soon as Ivy and the Asian boy – Evan – sat down, they were immediately joined by another Hufflepuff, a tan, copper-haired boy with the most unique eyes Sirius had ever seen. On par with Remus's amber and Ivy's green – or was it hazel?- that changed in different lightings, or depending on his mood. Right now, Ivy must be irritated, if his mint green irises were anything to go by.

The redhead plopped down across from Ivy, who sat next to Evan and Remus, with James and Sirius next to the redhead. "Eyy, Ivy, how you doin'? Who are these people that I just sat down with?"

Ivy answered softly, "Alex, meet Evan, Sirius, James, and Remus." he pointed to the people as he introduced them. They all waved.

Ivy barely had time to fix his plate before the owls arrived. They flew over everybody's heads, landing to deliver letters and steal food, before either going back to the Owlery, landing on the rafters, or staying with their owners. He felt a eight on his head and looked up at Aegeus, who hooted at him quietly. As Evan looked at the owl curiously – Alex gaping at the fact that the owl had literally just dropped from the rafters, but we don't mention that – Ivy spotted a red, steaming letter that an owl had just dropped on Sirius, who looked apprehensive.

Ivy's - very weird – instincts that he had gotten from watching way too many YouTubers kicked in, and he snatched the letter from the mostly calm Sirius. He didn't even know which YouTuber he was channeling – probably Markiplier – as he sprinted for the doors that led out of Hogwarts. The Howler was making popping noises. Ivy burst through the doors and ran for the Black Lake. He stopped at the shore, and threw the Howler that had yet to go off with an almighty, " _YEET."_

The Howler opened in midair, and Ivy heard the voice of a crazy lady start shouting (" _Sirius Orion Black, how DARE you-"_ ) before the letter was snatched by a large tentacle and pulled into the lake, so Ivy could no longer hear it. The boy blinked.

He had just channeled his inner Smii7y. Blessed.

 **(I still say 'yeet', I'm so sorry if you thought this was a good story.)**

"Ivy, what does 'yeet' mean?"

"You don't need to know, Alex."

"Ivy-"

" _You don't."_

 **(He'll learn eventually.)**

Ivy Beau Rosewood – Year 1.

1st Period- History of Magic ( _Nap Time)_

2nd Period- Herbology ( _This is gonna be a_ _ **shit show**_ _)_

3rd Period- Charms _(Smol Teacher)_

4th Period- Transfiguration ( _Better not piss her off)_

5th Period- Potions _(At least Snappy isn't the teacher?)_

6thPeriod- Astronomy ( _May as well fail this class. Not gonna be awake at midnight.)_

 **(He altered his schedule a bit.)**

 **-First Period-**

There's not much to say about this class. He already knew the textbook, and so he had slept through the class. The others had taken his lead. Nobody learned anything.

 **-Second Period-**

"Alright, everybody get into groups!"

Evan sought out Ivy immediately, Alex following right after. Ivy didn't speak a word as he was dragged into the little group. He was still speechless, looking at what he had to take care of.

It looked like fucking Lovely from the Kirby series.

The – _thing_ blinked at him with wide purple eyes. A flower – with yellow petals and a green stem – that had _eyes._ No mouth, thank God, but _eyes._ Ivy refused to come too close to it.

Alex looked at the thing with admiring eyes. "Woah, these things are so cool!" he exclaimed happily, before continuing to gush praises over it. Ivy watched this with a critical eye making Evan giggle. He thought Ivy was just so damn cute.

Evan's thoughts were cut off as Ivy jumped backwards, straight onto Evan's chest.

His happiness increased.

Ivy, meanwhile, was terrified. The thing had just grown. Right in front of him, it had grown an inch. It was feeding off of Alex's praises.

Hell no. Fuck that. Not today, Satan.

He walked straight out of class, ignoring Evan's loud protests.

To fail or to live? That is a rhetorical question.

 **-Third Period-**

Charms is now his favorite subject. Correction; Flitwick is his favorite teacher.

For the first time in a while, he could _look down_ to see someone. That is, someone who was not a child or a dwarf.

"Oh my," Flitwick gawked, looking up – _up!_ \- at Ivy, "This may be the closest a student has come to my height!"

Ivy felt his rose-colored glasses shatter.

"What happened to you?" Lily – who he was sitting next to, considering neither Alex nor Evan was in the class, and the Marauders were far too irritating – asked him when he plopped down next to her in a daze.

Ivy shook his head numbly, bringing out his wand unconsciously as Flitwick ordered them. "Lily, my soul has just shattered. Have a little empathy."

The pretty girl chuckled boyishly, before pulling her wand from her front robe pocket as a feather was placed in front of her. Then she paused, looking from her outfit, to Ivy's, and back again. She raised a thin, red eyebrow as she sent Ivy a question, "Why aren't you wearing your robes?"

"Because effort," Ivy said, as if it were a reasonable response. Lily rolled her eyes and focused on the spell.

Ivy realized that this was the first time trying his wand seriously. He furrowed his brows in thought, studying his wand. His magic was arguably perfect, though sometimes too effective, on its own. What would happen with a wand?

Ivy knew this spell from heart. He spoke calmly, less of a first-time-trying and more of a soft command. "Wingardium Leviosa," he flicked his wand towards his feather, half-expecting nothing to happen. Something did.

Lily and her chair began floating towards the ceiling. Ivy stared blankly as the kids around him shrieked in surprise, the redheaded girl included, and Flitwick ran over in confusion and slight panic.

This needs a solution.

 **-Beepbop-**

In the hallway after class, Lily just stared at Ivy.

"Why did you do that," she questioned (?) blankly, looking to be in a state of complete disbelief.

"Do what?"

"Levitate your own chair. _On purpose."_

"You cannot be the only one who gets to escape from the other annoyances."

" _Those are our classmates._ "

"Same thing."

 **-Fourth Period-**

"Mr. Rosewood. _Why_?"

"Professor McGonagall. _Why not?"_

" _Because you aren't supposed to be able to conjure animals yet."_

"But I did."

"Mr. Rosewood, out of all of the animals to be found in the animal kingdom, why would you choose a dog?"

"Because none of my friends are in this class- no, Davien, you don't count. Don't pout at me, you fu-"

" _Mr. Rosewood."_

"Please don't vanish the schnauzer."

"Don't tell me what to do, Mr. Rosewood."

"Ma'am-"

"Don't start, Mr. Jonas."

 **-Fifth Period-**

"Oho," Slughorn started, walking towards where Ivy was sitting with Remus, "Rosewood, you say? You wouldn't happen to have an older brother named Clint, would you? He was one of my favorite students, a real prize!"

Ivy had absolutely no fucking clue who he was talking about. He egged Slughorn on anyway, "What does he look like? Maybe he is my older brother."

"Oho! He looks quite similar to you, just...ahem, taller! Around 5'11, he has pale skin, freckles, blonde hair, and a pair of stunning eyes _just_ like yours! But, I must say, you must have taken quite a bit after your mother!" Slughorn spoke very fondly of this 'older brother'.

"Ahahaha, wow! Maybe I do have a long-lost brother!"

Slughorn beamed.

Operation 'Suck Up to the Teacher Just In Case I'm Shit at the Subject' is a go.

 **(Bruh I just wrote in Yamamoto Takeshi's character. Blessed.)**

"Ryan."

"Ivy."

"Are you going to Astronomy?"

"Never."

"What's your excuse?"

"I'm an American who is not expected to listen. You?"

"Sleep is the one thing in life I have control over."

"Evan's going to try and drag you out of bed."

"Let him try. I haven't used my rifle in a while."

"What?"

"What?"

 **(EYYYYYY)**

 **If anybody wants to chat with me on Tumblr, or wants to send requests for this story or maybe a one-shot, my Tumblr name is – don't judge – rood-dood-with-a-bad-attitood. In my description it says that I post on , so you'll know.**

 **I also know that there is zero chance of this ever, ever happening, but fanart would be fucking amazing.**

 **Anyway, more next chapter (especially if you send requests), and I love you all!**

 **(P.S WATCH MINILADD AND/OR SMII7Y. ACTUALLY CHECK OUT ANY YOUTUBER I MENTION THANK YOU)**


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